' 


A  MAKE-SHIFT  MARRIAGE 


MRS.  BAILLIE  REYNOLDS 


Qr  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

THE  GIRL  FROM  NOWHERE 
THE  NOTORIOUS  Miss  LISLE 
OUT  OF  THE  NIGHT 

12mo.     Each,   net  $1.20 

GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 


A   MAKE-SHIFT 
MARRIAGE 


BY 

MRS.  BAILLIE  REYNOLDS 

AUTHOR  OF  "OUT  OF  THE  NIGHT,"  "THE  GIRL  FROM  NOWHERE,1 
"THE  NOTORIOUS  MISS  LISLE,"  ETC. 


HODDER  &  STOUGHTON 

NEW  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1912 
By  George  H.  Doran  Company 


A  MAKE-SHIFT  MARRIAGE 


2132546 


A  MAKE-SHIFT  MARRIAGE 


CHAPTER  I 

"  To  bear,  to  nurse,  to  rear, 
To  watch,  and  then  to  lose: 
This  have -I  done!  " — JEAN  INGELOW. 

THAT  Mrs.  Brendon,  being  what  she  was,  should  be 
content  to  dwell  in  a  suburb,  is  perhaps  a  sign  of  her 
greatness  of  mind. 

We  all  know  that  the  word  "  suburban  "  in  the  mouth 
of  the  superior  person,  conveys  a  sort  of  reproach.  It 
is  used  to  suggest  cheap  culture  of  the  pretentious  kind. 
It  serves  as  a  label.  The  truth,  that  one  suburb  dif- 
fers from  another  in  almost  every  respect,  is  lost  sight 
of  by  the  superficial  critic,  who  likes  to  group  things. 

Thackridge  differs  from  almost  every  other  suburb, 
not  only  in  its  social  atmosphere,  but  actually  in  its 
geographical  configuration. 

The  fact  that  it  stands  upon  a  hill,  and  that  the  va- 
rious suburban  lines  have  in  consequence  swerved  away 
from  it  on  either  hand,  has  left  it,  as  its  inhabitants 
joyfully  affirm,  "  quite  countrified." 

One  wears  tweed  suits  and  Norfolk  jackets  and  very 
thick  boots  in  Thackridge.  One  finds  real  gardens, 
and  delightful,  unsuspected  houses,  with  their  backs, 
or  sides,  to  the  road  —  houses  which  do  not  even  sug- 
gest a  row  of  villas.  They  were  not  planned  by  a  subur- 

1 


2        A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

ban  architect :  they  are,  for  the  most  part,  almost  incon- 
venient enough  to  be  truly  picturesque. 

The  house  in  which  Mrs.  Brandon  had  lived,  since 
her  husband's  death,  was  one  of  these.  She  had,  in- 
deed, inserted  a  hot-water  supply  and  electric  light: 
but  these  things  were  alien  to  the  plan  of  the  long, 
low  house,  invisible  from  the  road,  whose  date  was  so 
various  that  nobody  presumed  to  dogmatise  on  the  sub- 
ject, but  which  boasted  that  its  foundations  were  iden- 
tical with  those  of  the  Abbot's  house  which  had  once 
occupied  the  site. 

Mrs.  Brandon  was  just  fifty  years  old  on  the  morn- 
ing when  Oliver's  terrible  letter  broke  into  the  even 
tenour  of  her  way. 

She  was  the  widow  of  an  Oxford  Professor,  who 
numbered  among  his  friends  most  of  the  prominent 
men  of  his  day.  Her  married  life  had  been  passed 
in  Oxford,  but  she  was  born  in  the  Abbot's  House  at 
Thackridge;  and,  this  happening  to  be  in  the  market 
at  the  time  of  her  widowhood,  she  bought  it,  and  set- 
tled down  in  it  to  live  again  in  her  only  son's  future. 

She  was  herself  a  writer  and  journalist  of  no  mean 
ability :  and  her  life  was  full  of  interests.  Oliver  and 
she  were  and  always  had  been  the  best  of  friends,  un- 
til Vivien  Faulkner  came  into  their  lives. 

The  Faulkners  were  the  great  folks  of  Thackridge. 
Sir  Charles  Faulkner  was  a  railway  director  of  the 
Napoleonic  kind.  He  had  extricated  the  City  and 
Local  Line  from  serious  financial  difficulties,  and  had 
turned  it  into  a  gold  mine.  He  had  married  an  Amer- 
ican heiress,  and  his  sons  and  daughters  were  most  of 
them  handsome.  The  eldest  son's  wife  was  a  Lady 
Somebody  —  the  eldest  daughter  had  married  a 
young  man  who  was  not  only  a  Member  of  Parliament, 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE        3 

but  also  a  member  of  a  county  family,  which  counted 
for  far  more  in  the  eyes  of  her  father.  It  was  not 
considered  likely,  in  Thackridge,  that  Vivien  would 
have  anything  to  say  to  Oliver  Brendon,  nor  that  her 
father  would  sanction  the  engagement,  even  should  she 
herself  be  weak  enough  to  desire  it. 

Oliver  was  six  feet  high,  and  quite  nice-looking, 
though  not  handsome.  He  had  plenty  of  ability,  but 
his  intellect  resembled  that  of  his  mother  more  than 
that  of  his  father.  Though  not  yet  thirty,  he  was  ed- 
iting The  Penman,  a  high-class  weekly  journal,  which 
was  doing  well,  and  likely  to  do  better. 

He  was,  of  course,  more  or  less  eligible  —  highly  so 
in  the  eyes  of  most  Thackridge  mothers :  but  the  Faulk- 
ners  rose  above  the  level  of  their  immediate  surround- 
ings. Their  week-end  parties  were  quite  smart. 

Oliver,  however,  seemed  unimpressed  by  any  sense 
of  inferiority.  Vivien  was  astonishingly  pretty  — 
pretty  enough  to  take  even  a  level-headed  London  editor 
off  his  feet.  He  fell  in  love  with  unexpected  severity ; 
and  the  energy  of  his  personality  conquered  the  girl. 
She  accepted  him,  the  engagement  was  announced,  and 
all  Thackridge  purred  with  delight.  It  was  a  kind  of 
victory  for  the  suburb.  Oliver  was  felt  to  have  con- 
ferred distinction  upon  the  whole  of  local  society  by 
aiming  so  high  and  shooting  his  bolt  so  successfully. 

Mrs.  Brendon  made  the  best  of  it.  She  saw  her  fu- 
ture daughter-in-law  with  the  terrible  clearness  of  ma- 
ternal instinct,  undisguised  by  the  mists  of  passion. 
There  was  no  backbone  in  Vivien.  She  would  be  al- 
ways a  weight  for  Oliver  to  carry,  never  a  lever  to 
raise  him.  She  was  sweetly  caressing  in  her  manner 
to  him  now,  because  the  incense  of  his  devotion  was 
intoxicating  her.  Oliver's  mother  foresaw  another 


4       A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

manner,  when  novelty  began  to  pall,  and  the  bare  bones 
of  real  life  to  show  gaunt  through  the  roses  of  illusion. 
Such  a  wife  is  a  luxury  which  only  a  very  rich  man  can 
afford. 

Oliver's  wife  could  never,  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
events,  be  rich.  Mrs.  Brendon  had  a  competence,  and 
this  she  supplemented  by  her  own  work.  Her  son  and 
she  were  very  comfortable ;  but  Vivien  had  been  reared 
on  a  different  scale.  Sir  Charles  Faulkner,  like  many 
another  rich  man,  though  he  had  accustomed  his  daugh- 
ters to  every  luxury,  was  not  at  all  inclined  to  portion 
them  handsomely.  He  had  the  notion  which  obtains 
very  largely  among  fathers  in  England,  that  they  will 
not  have  fortune-hunters  after  their  daughters.  The 
system  of  give  and  take,  which  is  usual  on  the  Conti- 
nent, has  no  place  in  their  minds.  Any  man  must  be 
fortunate  who  gets  their  daughter,  and  he  ought  to  be 
prepared  to  pay  handsomely  for  the  privilege.  The 
idea  that  a  marriage  between  two  young  people  should 
also  be  a  union  of  resources  —  that  each  should  con- 
tribute towards  the  formation  of  the  home  —  is  heresy 
in  the  mind  of  the  English  father. 

From  this  point  of  view,  Oliver  was  a  most  accom- 
modating son-in-law.  He  disliked  the  consideration 
of  ways  and  means.  At  school  and  at  Oxford,  his 
mother  had  seen  that  he  was  well  supplied  with  neces- 
sary funds,  and  he  had  been  too  soundly  brought  up  to 
desire  the  unnecessary  ones.  Waste  of  money  was  a 
thing  he  did  not  understand.  He  was  not  extravagant, 
and  he  had  always  had  enough  for  what  he  wanted. 
He  assumed  that  what  sufficed  him  would  suffice  the 
woman  who  shared  his  lot. 

The  engagement  took  place  in  the  autumn.  Oliver 
was  anxious  to  be  married  at  once ;  but  Lady  Faulkner 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE       5 

objected.  She  pointed  out,  quite  reasonably,  that  Viv- 
ien was  barely  nineteen,  and  ought  not  to  be  hurried; 
and  in  the  second  place,  she,  Lady  Faulkner,  was  plan- 
ning a  winter  in  Cairo,  and  wished  her  daughter  to  ac- 
company her.  If  the  marriage  came  off  in  the  spring, 
this  was  the  last  chance  for  her  to  have  Vivien  with  her. 
She  demanded  from  the  young  couple  this  sacrifice  to 
duty. 

It  was,  of  course,  impossible  to  resist  so  natural  a 
desire  on  the  part  of  a  mother.  Vivien  parted  from 
her  lover  with  tears  and  laments,  and  clinging  em- 
braces and  kisses  that  tingled  in  the  young  man's 
blood  when  he  thought  of  them,  which  was  almost 
always.  He  grew  grave  and  thin,  consumed  with  the 
desire  for  the  presence  of  the  beloved  object.  He  had 
not  wasted  his  youth  on  aimless  flirtation,  any  more 
than  he  had  wasted  his  money  on  wine  or  fancy  waist- 
coats. He  was  in  deadly  earnest  now. 

Mrs.  Brendon  sighed  a  little  in  private.  It  is  al- 
ways a  severe  discipline  to  the  middle-aged  to  look  on 
at  the  passions  of  youth  —  the  wasted  fervour,  the  mis- 
placed devotion.  Oliver's  mother,  however,  had  the 
sense  to  see  that  some  such  crisis  as  this  was  necessary 
to  her  son's  development.  All  had  hitherto  gone  very 
smoothly  for  him  in  his  comfortable  circumstances. 
The  only  woman  he  had  ever  known  intimately  was  a 
woman  who  was  eminently  reasonable  and  sincerely 
desirous  of  his  happiness.  It  was  well  for  him  to  be 
for  a  time  the  slave  to  a  young  girl's  caprice  —  to  hang 
upon  her  letters,  even  to  grow  thin  with  the  intense 
desire  for  her  presence. 

It  had  been  the  lover's  intention  to  run  out  to  Cairo 
at  Christmas,  for  a  glimpse  of  Vivien's  lovely  face. 
His  plans  were  foiled  by  a  kind  of  crisis  in  the  affairs 


6       A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

of  his  paper.  An  article  which  the  proprietor,  against 
the  advice  of  his  editor,  had  insisted  upon  inserting, 
bade  fair  to  produce  a  libel  action  which  would  set  all 
London  buzzing.  The  storm  gathered  just  at  the  time 
when  Oliver  might  have  snatched  those  few  days.  By 
the  time  the  danger  was  safely  over  the  Christmas  va- 
cation was  also  past. 

It  was  very  soon  after  this  that  the  tone  of  Vivien's 
letters  began  to  alter.  He  felt  that  the  prolonged 
absence,  the  great  distance,  was  drawing  her  out  of 
his  reach.  His  mother  noted  that  his  anxiety  for  the 
arrival  of  news  grew  more  feverish;  the  relief  which 
a  letter  brought,  less  noticeable.  She  stood  aloof,  all 
her  heart  sore  for  the  son  who  had  passed  beyond  reach 
of  her  consolation.  She  asked  no  questions,  she  re- 
ceived no  confidence.  She  only  guessed  that  things 
were  getting  worse. 

It  was  in  March  that  the  blow  fell.  Vivien  wrote, 
a  short,  broken,  incoherent  note,  supplemented  by  a 
letter  from  her  mother,  to  say  that  she  had  changed 
her  mind.  She  had  no  apology  to  offer  except  the 
obvious  one  that  she  had  been  very  young  and  inex- 
perienced. She  could  but  beg  and  beseech  pardon. 
Mr.  Railton  had  spent  the  winter  at  Shepherd's  with 
them.  He  was  American.  Lady  Faulkner  had  no- 
ticed from  the  first  that  he  admired  Vivien  greatly, 
but  had  thought  little  of  it,  as  Vivien  was  very  greatly 
admired.  He  had,  however,  been  unremitting  in  his 
attentions.  He  had  cancelled  his  whole  programme 
of  proceeding  up  the  Nile,  in  order  to  remain  in  Cairo 
with  them.  As  time  went  on  she  could  not  help  feel- 
ing sure  that  the  girl  had  mistaken  her  own  heart.  Her 
unhappiness  was  evident.  At  last  things  had  come  to 
a  crisis.  Mr.  Railton  confessed  to  her  that  he  could 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE        7 

stay  no  longer,  as  his  feelings  could  not  be  commanded. 
Vivien,  on  hearing  that  he  was  departing,  had  dissolved 
in  tempests  of  tears.  The  thing  was  done,  and  could 
not  be  undone.  It  only  remained  to  throw  themselves 
upon  Mr.  Brendon's  mercy. 

In  view  of  the  painful  situation,  Lady  Faulkner  pro- 
posed, instead  of  returning  to  England,  to  remain 
abroad  rather  longer  than  she  had  intended,  and  to  come 
back  to  Thackridge  only  just  in  time  for  the  wedding, 
which  must  be  in  May,  as  Mr.  Bailton's  affairs  made 
it  urgent  for  him  to  return  to  the  States,  and  he  wished 
to  take  his  wife  with  him. 

How  Oliver  first  received  this  news  his  mother  never 
knew;  for  it  chanced  that  she  was  away  for  the  week- 
end with  her  sister  at  Hastings,  when  the  fatal  letter 
arrived.  On  her  return  to  the  Abbot's  House,  on  Mon- 
day afternoon,  she  found  an  envelope,  addressed  by 
Oliver,  enclosing  the  two  letters,  with  no  comment,  be- 
yond the  message  that  he  should  not  return  home  for 
the  next  few  days. 

She  sat  down  alone  with  her  son's  sorrow,  and  hated 
herself  for  the  feeling  which,  even  in  the  first  moment, 
would  intrude,  that  she  was  glad  from  the  bottom  of 
her  heart  that  Vivien  had  proved  herself  unworthy. 
She  knew  that  the  blow  was  a  staggering  one ;  but  her 
confidence  in  her  son  made  her  pretty  certain  of  his 
rising  from  it  a  better  man  because  of  his  suffering. 
She  had  no  address,  but  wrote  to  him  at  the  office  of 
The  Penman  to  assure  him  of  her  love  and  sympathy. 
She  said  no  word  against  Vivien,  commenting  only 
upon  the  force  of  juxtaposition  in  the  case  of  the  very 
young.  She  guessed  that  Mr.  Eailton  was  wealthy 
enough  to  have  dazzled  the  girl. 

"  How  often,"  she  wrote,  "  have  I  thanked  God  that 


8       A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

I  did  not  marry  the  man  with  whom  I  fell  in  love  when 
I  was  seventeen!  I  was  saved  only  by  the  fact  that 
he  got  entangled  with  the  daughter  of  his  landlady, 
and  had  to  marry  her.  The  day  that  I  learnt  that 
news  I  thought  my  life  was  over.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
I  was  rescued,  by  the  skin  of  my  teeth,  from  what 
must  have  been  a  lifelong  mistake." 

Having  despatched  her  letter,  she  could  only  wait 
for  news  of  her  beloved  with  what  patience  she  might. 
For  the  first  few  days  she  was  fairly  tranquil,  though 
her  heart  ached  continually  for  him.  Then  she  began 
to  grow  restless.  Oliver  was  a  sensible,  capable  fel- 
low, true;  but  he  had  never  been  seriously  in  love  be- 
fore, and  one  never  knows  quite  how  such  a  man  will 
take  disappointment.  As  a  child,  his  temper  had  been 
fiery  and  explosive.  Moreover,  the  strain  of  his 
fiancee's  absence  had  brought  him  to  a  highly  strung 
condition  of  nerves,  and  unusual  debility  of  body.  It 
began  to  seem  likely  to  her,  during  her  solitary  reflec- 
tions, that  he  might  be  suffering  more  than  she  had  an- 
ticipated. She  wrote  imploring  him  to  give  her  an 
address  —  asking  what  he  was  doing. 

His  reply  to  this  came  by  return  of  post.  He  was 
merely  sleeping  in  London,  at  his  Club.  He  could  not 
face  Thackridge  yet  —  palpitating,  as  it  must  be,  with 
the  news  of  his  rebuff.  He  begged  his  mother  not  to 
be  anxious,  and  not  to  put  pressure  upon  him  to  re- 
turn. He  must  wrestle  with  his  bitterness  in  soli- 
tude. 

This  should  have  reassured  her,  but  did  not.  It  was 
not  the  course  of  conduct  she  would  have  expected  him 
to  pursue. 

She  passed  some  miserable  days. 

Sir  Charles  called  upon  her,  to  apologise,  frankly 


A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE       9 

enough,  but  with  an  undercurrent  of  exultation  which 
was  quite  perceptible,  for  his  daughter's  bad  behaviour. 
"  In  an  older  girl  one  might  call  it  unpardonable,"  he 
said,  "  but  Vivien  is  young,  and  has  always  been  ca- 
pricious. I  told  your  son  at  the  time  of  the  engage- 
ment that  I  was  by  no  means  sure  of  her  knowing  her 
own  mind.  He  was  confident,  however,  and  there  was, 
as  I  need  hardly  assure  you,  no  disposition  on  my  part 
to  put  any  obstacle  in  the  way  of  an  alliance  which  I 
felt  would  be  an  honour  to  our  family." 

Mrs.  Brendon  was  glad  to  be  able  to  bear  this  and 
other  exasperations  in  Oliver's  stead. 

She  still  wrote  to  him  bravely  and  cheerfully,  urging 
him  to  come  back  when  he  felt  he  could,  offering  to 
leave  home  for  the  whole  summer,  if  he  cared  to  do 
so.  "  We  could  easily  let  this  house  furnished,  and  go 
to  some  fresh  place,  farther  afield,  whence  you  could 
get  up  to  town  every  day." 

The  sympathies  of  Thackridge  were  strongly  on  the 
side  of  the  Brendons,  if  you  trusted  what  they  said. 
Nevertheless,  there  was  a  lurking  hesitation  —  a  kind 
of  disappointment  that  their  hero  had  proved  not  strong 
enough  to  keep  what  he  had  won. 

"  They  will  all  be  wild  to  see  Mr.  Railton,  in  a 
month's  time,"  said  the  lady  of  the  Abbot's  House, 
with  pardonable  bitterness,  to  Mona  Letts,  the  girl 
whom  she  would  have  chosen  for  her  daughter-in-law, 
had  such  choice  been  given  to  mothers. 

Mona  laughed,  and  sighed.  She  may  have  felt  that 
Vivien's  defection  was  her  opportunity.  But  the  de- 
feated Oliver  did  not  appear  to  claim  the  sympathy 
which  was  his  due. 

"It  is  a  good  thing,"  she  said,  searching  for  any 
consoling  thing  to  say,  "  that  Vivien  is  marrying  an 


10     A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

American.  It  will  take  her  right  away,  out  of  his 
sight,  won't  it?" 

"  Yes,  that's  true.  I  hope  and  trust  he  will  not 
want  me  to  sell  the  Abbot's  House.  I  had  hoped 
to  end  my  days  here,  I  must  own." 

"  I  heard  from  Vivi  yesterday,"  went  on  Mona, 
"  such  a  ridiculous  letter.  She  says  she  wishes  she 
could  marry  two  men,  and  then  she  could  have  Calvert, 
as  she  calls  him,  for  one,  and  Oliver  for  the  other  — 
Calvert  to  take  her  motoring,  and  Oliver  when  she 
wants  to  go  to  picture  galleries.  You  see,  she  is  not 
serious:  a  mere  child." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Brendon  impatiently, 
"  that  half  the  sensible  men  in  the  world  fall  in  love 
with  irresponsible  children." 

"  If  one  could  unite  the  two,"  said  Mona  reflectively 
— "Why  should  not  the  serious-minded  girl  have  a 
more  fluffy  exterior  ?  " 

Mrs.  Brendon  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  fluffy 
exterior.  Vivien  was  fluffy,  no  doubt  —  her  head  was 
all  over  curls,  bound  with  ribbon,  and  her  clothes  were 
modelled  upon  old  pictures. 

"  Well,  Mona,"  she  could  not  resist  saying,  "  why 
not  cultivate  the  fluffy  exterior  ? " 

This  conversation  took  place  about  a  fortnight  after 
the  rupture  of  the  engagement,  and  only  a  day  before 
the  blow  fell  1 


CHAPTER  II 

Shall  I  speak  like  a  poet,  or  run 

Into  weak  woman's  tears  for  relief? 
Oh,  children !  —  I  never  lost  one, 
Yet  my  arm's  round  my  own  little  son, 

And  Love  knows  the  secret  of  Grief. 

12.  BARRETT  BROWNING. 

IT  was  a  Saturday  night.  The  weather,  although  it 
was  April,  was  still  cold  and  wintry.  Mrs.  Brendon 
had  spent  a  tiring  day  over  her  bulbs,  and,  after  din- 
ner, had  subsided  into  a  comfortable  chair  before  the 
drawing-room  fire,  and  was  deep  in  a  new  book. 

She  had  never  been  beautiful,  but  had  come  rather 
near  it  in  her  youth,  and  was  still  quite  pleasant  to 
look  upon.  Her  hair  was  abundant,  and  hardly  at  all 
grey.  Her  figure  had  thickened  somewhat,  but  she 
was  not  stout,  and  kept  herself  active  by  riding  a 
bicycle  and  taking  long  walks.  The  twenty  years  which 
divided  herself  and  her  tall  son  in  age  might  well  have 
been  ten.  They  were  often  taken,  in  Switzerland,  for 
brother  and  sister,  to  her  innocent  pride  and  delight. 

Her  mind  was  more  than  usually  occupied  with 
thoughts  of  Oliver  that  night.  She  was  reading  the 
last  new  work  of  an  author  for  whom  the  editor  of  The 
Penman  had  predicted  fame  some  years  previously. 
The  result  justified  her  boy's  opinion.  As  she  relished 
the  pithy  sentences,  the  fascinating  turn  of  the  phrase, 
she  wished  with  all  her  heart  that  he  were  there  to 
share  her  pleasure. 

11 


12     A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

The  late  post  rapped  at  the  door,  and  very  soon  Drew, 
her  capable  parlourmaid,  brought  in  the  letters.  There 
was  one  from  Oliver,  as  she  noted  with  pleasure. 
Leaning  forward,  she  stirred  the  already  good  fire 
into  a  more  inspiriting  blaze,  as  though  to  prepare  her- 
self for  the  treat  of  seeing  his  fine,  sensitive  handwrit- 
ing—  the  script  of  a  Greek  scholar. 

It  was  quite  a  short  letter,  dated  from  his  club  that 
morning. 

"  MY  DEAR  MOTHER, 

"  This  is  to  let  you  know  that  I  was  married 
this  morning,  at  St.  Luke's  Church,  to  Miss  Carey, 
who  has  from  time  to  time  done  stenographic  work 
for  me. 

"  We  are  now  starting  for  Brighton  for  the  week- 
end. On  Monday  I  propose  to  bring  my  wife  to 
the  Abbot's  House,  until  our  plans  for  the  future 
are  more  decided. 

"  I  realise,  of  course,  that  the  step  I  am  taking, 
and  the  manner  of  it,  must  be  a  shock  to  you. 
I  do  not  see  my  way  to  soften  the  blow  by  anything 
that  I  could  write.  Least  said  is  perhaps  best. 

"  But  I  assure  you  that  I  am  still,  in  spite  of 
appearances,  Your  loving  son, 

"  OLIVER  BRENDON." 

For  some  time  Sybil  sat  with  this  letter  upon  her 
lap,  quite  unconscious  of  feeling  anything  at  all.  The 
first  process  of  which  her  brain  was  aware  was  a  con- 
temptuous notion  that  this  was  a  practical  joke.  The 
next  —  after  a  long  interval  —  was  a  secret  joy  that 
Harold,  her  dead  husband,  was  not  there  to  have  his 
heart  lacerated  in  this  shocking  manner. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     13 

She  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  and  her  head  fell 
limply  against  the  cushions.  The  colour  had  forsaken 
even  her  lips.  In  her  soft  black  evening  dress,  out- 
lined upon  the  delicate-tinted  chintz,  she  looked  like  a 
dead  woman.  She  had  not,  however,  fainted.  She  was 
fully  conscious  of  her  agony. 

The  clock  ticked  on.  She  looked  up,  after  the  lapse 
of  what  seemed  to  her  a  very  few  minutes.  An  hour 
had  rolled  by  since  she  broke  the  seal  and  let  loose  upon 
herself  this  flood  of  trouble. 

This  was  her  son's  wedding-night. 

The  terrible  finality  of  the  thing  was  like  the  falling 
of  earth  upon  a  coffin-lid,  when  they  were  filling  a 
grave. 

Oliver,  her  high-minded,  well-balanced  son,  a  typical 
Englishman  of  the  better  class,  had  allowed  himself  to 
be  ruined  for  ever  by  the  inconstancv  of  a  half-grown 
child. 

Everything  that  makes  a  man's  life  really  worth  liv- 
ing—  the  society  of  his  equals,  the  respect  of  his 
friends,  the  happiness  of  home  —  he  had  sacrificed  all 
to  the  satisfaction  of  a  baulked  desire,  the  terrible  de- 
lusion of  a  vengeance  which  injured  none  but  himself. 

Of  all  the  things  which  she  had  thought  it  possible 
might  happen  as  the  result  of  his  disappointment,  this 
had  been  farthest  from  her  mind. 

To  many  a  mother  comes  a  day  when  her  own  son 
seems  a  stranger.  She  began  to  let  her  mind  wander 
over  the  members  of  her  husband's  family,  in  search 
of  some  trait  which  should  account  for  this  unaccount- 
able lapse.  Harold  himself  had  transmitted  nothing, 
she  knew,  that  could  result  in  this.  What  of  his 
brothers  ?  Well,  certainly  there  was  Herbert,  who 
had  married  Lallie  Prince. 


14     A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

Perhaps  the  most  difficult  relationship  in  life  is  that 
between  a  woman  and  the  wives  of  her  husband's 
brothers.  No  fact  is  more  certain  than  that  two 
brothers  will  marry  two  women  as  far  sundered  as 
the  poles.  These  two  are  brought  into  an  intimacy 
which,  but  for  the  tie  thus  formed,  would  never,  could 
never  exist.  Lallie  Prince,  the  wife  of  Herbert  Bren- 
don,  had  been  in  the  ballet.  Had  she  been  an  Indian 
squaw,  there  could  hardly  have  been  less  in  common 
between  her  and  Oliver's  mother  than  there  was.  Yet, 
in  their  capacity  as  the  wives  of  these  two  brothers,  they 
had  to  address  each  other  by  their  Christian  names,  and 
to  sign  themselves  "  Yours  affectly." 

.  .  .  There  was  a  pathetic  irrelevance  in  such  re- 
flections at  this  moment.  But  for  quite  a  long  time 
Sybil's  thoughts  ran  on  these  lines.  There  was  some- 
thing alien  in  the  blood  which  her  son  inherited, — 
something  she  could  not  understand  —  but  which  had 
made  him  capable  of  this  social  shipwreck. 

After  a  long  while  she  was  conscious  that  Drew, 
the  parlourmaid,  had  entered,  and  was  looking  at  her 
doubtfully. 

"  Beg  pardon,  ma'am  —  do  you  know  that  it  is  after 
twelve  o'clock?" 

She  started.  Then  she  rose,  and  felt  all  her  limbs 
cramped  and  stiff  as  though  she  had  occupied  the  same 
posture  for  many  hours. 

"  Is  it  so  late  ? "  she  said  tonelessly.  To  speak 
seemed  an  effort. 

"  Do  you  feel  ill,  ma'am  ?  "  asked  the  maid  with  con- 
cern. 

She  pushed  back  her  hair  from  her  forehead,  and 
suddenly  all  that  she  was  feeling  surged  up  to  her 
throat,  until  she  could  hardly  breathe.  "  I've  —  I've 


A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE     15 

had  bad  news,"  she  panted,  and  burst  into  a  flood  of 
tears. 

"  Mr.  Brendon  ? "  cried  Drew,  in  tones  of  horror. 

"  Yes,  yes !  "  For  long  the  sobs  came  too  thick 
for  utterance,  but  she  brought  it  out  at  last.  "He 
is  married !  He  was  married  this  morning !  Without 
telling  me !  Without  asking  me  to  his  wedding !  My 
boy,  my  only  son !  I  think  my  heart  is  broken !  " 


The  whole  of  Sunday  the  stricken  mother  lay  in 
bed,  trying  to  realise  the  misfortune  which  had  be- 
fallen her.  Its  exact  extent  she  could  not  yet  know. 
There  still  remained  the  final  bitterness  —  the  actual 
meeting  with  the  typewriter  girl  who  had  consented  to 
a  hole-and-corner  marriage  such  as  this. 

Was  it  possible  that  she  might  be  capable  of  being 
trained  into  something  dimly  resembling  a  gentle- 
woman ?  Oliver's  letter  seemed  hardly  to  hold  out  such 
a  hope.  Had  he  felt  able  to  say  one  word  in  her  praise, 
would  he  not  have  said  it  ?  Had  he  foreseen  any  pos- 
sibility of  his  mother's  sympathy,  would  he  not  have 
invoked  it? 

She  read  and  re-read  his  bitter,  reckless  words.  In 
his  unbearable  misery  he  had  taken  his  future  with 
both  hands  and  hurled  it  overboard. 

It  was  so  unusual  for  Mrs.  Brendon  to  be  absent  from 
church  both  morning  and  evening  that  Mona  Letts. 
came  round  on  her  way  home  to  know  if  she  were  ill. 
Drew  went  upstairs  to  her  mistress  to  ask  what  she 
should  say  to  the  visitor. 

Sybil  reflected.  To-morrow  her  new  daughter-in-law 
would  be  actually  in  Thackridge.  There  would  be  no 
concealing  the  catastrophe.  She  might  as  well  an- 


16      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

nounce  it  to  Mona,  and  then  she  would  be  sure  of  the 
whole  village  knowing  it  by  slow  yet  sure  degrees. 

"  Tell  Miss  Letts  that  I  am  suffering  from  the  shock 
of  sudden  news.  Tell  her  that  I  heard  yesterday  that 
Mr.  Brendon  is  married.  I  do  not  feel  equal  to  seeing 
her.  Thank  her  for  her  kindness  in  coming." 

Standing  in  the  low,  square  hall,  thinking  how  much 
she  admired  its  restraint  and  distinction,  Mona  heard 
the  surprising  intelligence.  It  was  so  amazing  that 
she  could  not  refrain  from  showing  her  consternation. 
She  plied  the  parlourmaid  with  questions.  Drew  knew 
only  that  Mrs.  Oliver's  maiden  name  was  Miss  Carey 
and  that  they  were  coming  home  to-morrow.  Mrs. 
Brendon  had  never  seen  her,  she  was  pretty  sure  of 
that.  It  had  been  quite  a  surprise. 

Miss  Letts  turned  away  sorrowful.  She  loved  Mrs. 
Brendon,  she  dearly  liked  the  Abbot's  House.  She 
could  have  loved  Oliver  with  very  little  encourage- 
ment. Had  he  but  known  how  ready  she  was  to  sym- 
pathise ! 

But  these  are  things  that  well-bred  girls  hide.  How 
can  a  young  man  know  the  eager  kindness  that  may  lie 
hid  under  their  calm  expression? 

She  did  nothing  but  wonder  what  kind  of  girl  this 
Miss  Carey  was.  Had  Oliver  liked  her  before  he  fell 
a  victim  to  the  fluffiness  of  Vivien?  And  had  he  re- 
turned to  his  old  love  on  being  forsaken  by  the  new? 

It  was  matter  of  absorbing  interest. 

And  they  were  coming  here  to-morrow! 


Misery!     What  shall  I  say,  or  do? 
I  cannot  advise,  or,  at  least,  persuade. 
Most  like,  you  are  glad  you  deceived  me  —  rue 
No  whit  of  the  wrong. —  R.  BROWNING. 

THE  hours  of  Monday  afternoon  crept  on. 

Sybil  paced  her  drawing-room  with  restless  step. 
The  place  was  gay  with  fresh  flowers,  the  tea  equipage 
stood  awaiting  the  travellers.  There  was  no  wedding 
whiteness  anywhere  —  that  seemed  too  much  of  a  mock- 
ery. 

Every  moment  since  the  arrival  of  Oliver's  letter  her 
self-reproach  had  been  growing  keener.  She  ought  to 
have  interfered  more  in  the  privacy  of  his  disappoint- 
ment and  misery. 

From  his  earliest  years,  her  plan  had  been  to  edu- 
cate his  judgment,  then  to  stand  aside  and  let  him 
judge  for  himself.  He  was  brought  up  in  a  home 
atmosphere  lighted  by  sanity  and  warmed  by  affection. 
He  was  never  unreasonably  punished,  nor  unreason- 
ably indulged.  Until  now,  the  mother  had  had  every 
ground  for  believing  in  the  success  of  her  methods. 
Her  son  was  sociable  yet  home-loving,  wide-minded  but 
not  vague  in  his  opinions,  high-principled,  and  full  of 
good  feeling. 

It  had  seemed  to  her  that  if  such  a  man,  struck  down 
by  his  first  great  grief,  desired  to  retire  awhile  even 
from  her  loving  sympathy,  and  bear  his  trouble  alone, 
it  was  her  duty  to  respect  his  feeling. 

17 


18      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

Now  she  was  faced  by  the  conviction  that  she  should 
have  broken  down  every  barrier,  have  gone  to  him  and 
taken  him  in  her  arms,  have  treated  him  like  the  un- 
reasonable child  which  every  man  remains,  so  it  seems, 
to  his  dying  day. 

The  thought  that  she  had  sat  quietly  here  in  the 
comforts  of  her  home,  reading  new  books,  watching  the 
blooming  of  her  "  Sir  Watkins  "  and  enjoying  life  in 
her  usual,  comfortable  routine,  while  he  had  been  throw- 
ing to  the  winds,  in  the  madness  of  his  aching  heart, 
every  rule  by  which  he  had  hitherto  felt  himself  bound, 
well,  it  was  a  horror  which  came  between  herself  and 
sleep,  between  herself  and  God. 

He  was  not  yet  twenty-nine,  and  his  life  was  over. 
He  was  done  for. 

The  sound  of  wheels  broke  upon  her  musings.  By 
a  horrible  coincidence,  they  were  just  then  tolling  the 
church  bell  for  a  defunct  parishioner.  The  slow  knell 
struck  upon  her  ear  in  the  gusts  of  the  spring  wind, 
mingled  with  the  rumbling  of  the  station  fly  which 
brought  the  visible  doom  of  her  son  nearer  and  nearer  — 
to  her  very  door. 

She  trembled  in  every  limb  as  she  came  out  into  that 
hall  which  Mona  Letts  admired  so  truly. 

She  wore  a  long,  graceful  gown,  of  subdued  colour 
and  rich,  soft  fabric.  Her  hair  was  well  arranged. 
She  was  hardly  the  mother-in-law  for  whom  Oliver's 
wife  might  feel  prepared. 

The  cold  drops  of  a  sleet  shower,  and  the  wedding 
couple,  came  in  together.  She  saw  a  thin,  pale  girl  in 
a  blue  serge  coat  and  skirt  and  a  dark,  plain  hat.  The 
image  of  something  showy  and  pretentious,  something 
a  little  in  the  inferior  actress  style,  which  had  haunted 
her  fancy,  faded.  But  she  barely  remarked  her  dowdy 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      19 

daughter-in-law  for  the  moment,  so  hungrily  did  her 
eyes  fly  to  the  face  of  her  son  as,  after  paying  the 
driver,  he  turned  and  came  slowly  in,  one  hand  in  his 
breeches  pocket. 

It  was  like  looking  upon  a  stranger.  Not  one  trait 
of  her  Oliver  was  visible,  in  the  hard,  lowering  mask, 
upon  which  the  smile  which  was  half  a  sneer  sat  so 
oddly. 

"Well,  mother,  this  is  my  wife,"  he  said  harshly. 
He  rubbed  his  hands  together.  "  I  hope  you  have  a 
good  fire,  it's  abominably  cold." 

Could  she  find  a  voice  to  answer  him  ?  Could  she 
continue  this  scene,  or  should  she  break  down  there 
and  then,  and  throw  herself  weeping  into  his  arms  ? 

Her  reproachful  pride  came  to  her  rescue.  "  There 
is  a  very  good  fire,"  she  said  evenly,  "  and  I  am  sure 
you  must  both  want  a  cup  of  tea." 

She  turned  to  the  dumb  girl,  holding  out  her  hand 
in  encouragement ;  "  Come,"  said  she,  "  you  look  very 
cold." 

Taking  the  limp  fingers,  which  felt  like  ice  inside  the 
glove,  she  led  her  son's  wife  into  the  panelled  room, 
fragrant  with  freesias  and  hyacinths,  rosy  with  fire- 
light, saturated  with  the  atmosphere  of  home.  Before 
the  hearth,  she  turned  and  faced  the  new-comer,  holding 
her  at  arm's  length  and  gazing  into  her  white  face.  The 
child  looked  scared  to  death.  The  fear,  the  shrink- 
ing in  her  wide  eyes,  were  painful  to  witness.  The 
tension  of  Mrs.  Brendon's  nerves  displayed  itself  in  a 
little  laugh.  "  My  dear,  please  don't  be  so  terrified, 
I  am  not  going  to  eat  you,"  she  cried  rallyingly. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  I  am  not  afraid  of  you," 
returned  the  stranger,  in  low,  tense  tones,  charged 
with  some  emotion  which  she  could  not  fathom. 


20     A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"That  is  all  right,"  she  said,  dropping  with  almost 
a  shudder  the  cold  stiff  hands  she  held.  "  Sit  down, 
take  off  your  coat,  make  yourself  at  home.  Have  you 
come  up  from  Brighton  to-day  ?  " 

The  girl  paused  a  moment  before  replying.  "  To- 
day ?  Was  it  to-day  ? "  she  said.  "  It  must  have  been. 
It  seems  so  long  ago.  .  .  ." 

Sybil  set  down  the  cream-jug  and  stared  at  the 
strained  features.  It  was  not  a  common  face.  At 
present  the  predominant  expression  of  scared  unhap- 
piness  was  so  marked  as  to  prevent  one  from  knowing 
what  kind  of  woman  this  would  be,  in  her  normal 
aspect.  Mrs.  Oliver  Brendon  looked  half-starved. 
Her  eyes  were  very  dark,  her  hair,  so  far  as  appeared 
under  her  not  very  becoming  hat,  was  a  pale,  dull 
brown. 

At  this  moment  Oliver  entered  the  room;  and  as 
he  came,  his  wife  flinched,  visibly,  as  though  she  dreaded 
a  blow.  This  was  preposterous.  It  made  Sybil  so  in- 
dignant that  she  almost  spoke.  Colour  flamed  in  her 
face.  This  slip  of  a  typist,  this  little  nobody,  who  had 
secured  such  a  prize,  to  sit  there  looking  as  if  her  hus- 
band ill-treated  her! 

Oliver  walked  to  the  fireplace  and  stooped  to  warm 
his  hands  at  the  blaze.  "  By  George,  Brighton  is  a 
beastly  place  in  the  March  winds,"  he  remarked  dis- 
paragingly. 

"  Well,  why  did  you  go  there  ? "  asked  his  mother 
tartly.  "  Don't  talk  as  if  I  sent  you.  Anyway,  here 
you  are,  back  home  again.  Give  your  wife  her  tea, 
and  tell  me  what  I  am  to  call  her." 

Oliver  took  the  cup  of  tea  and  handed  it  to  the  girl, 
who  had  drawn  off  her  gloves,  revealing  a  pair  of  slen- 
der hands,  almost  purple  with  cold,  and  a  plain  gold 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     21 

ring  upon  the  wedding  finger.  "  What  in  the  world  is 
your  name  ? "  he  asked  carelessly,  as  he  took  a  sand- 
wish.  "  I've  heard  it,  of  course,  but  I've  forgotten." 

Two  red  spots  appeared  on  the  white  cheeks;  but 
she  turned  to  her  mother-in-law  and  answered  the  ques- 
tion to  her.  "  My  Christian  name  is  Astrid,"  she  said. 

"  Astrid !  That's  an  unusual  name.  I  think  I  shall 
find  it  easy  to  remember.  Have  you  known  my  son 
long?" 

"  Three  years,"  was  the  reply. 

There  was  an  awkward  silence.  Sybil  was  fight- 
ing valiantly,  but  how  unexpectedly  cruel  of  Oliver  not 
to  come  to  her  rescue ! 

"  I  need  not  say,"  she  observed,  after  a  pause  which 
the  married  pair  evidently  were  not  going  to  break,  "  I 
need  not  say  how  truly  I  wish  you  happiness.  My  son  " 
—  here  she  became  aware  that  her  voice  was  not  to  be 
trusted  — "  my  son  is  all  I  have." 

"  Poor  mother !  You're  badly  off,"  said  Oliver,  still 
in  his  harsh,  forced  tones.  "  Well,  what  news  in  the 
village  since  I  left?  Who  was  the  bell  tolling  for?" 

"Old  Mr.  J£nevett.  He  is  gone  at  last.  I  feel 
thankful  for  his  poor  wife  and  children." 

"Yes,  poor  old  buffer,  he  has  had  a  long  and  diffi- 
cult exit,"  said  Oliver.  "And  the  Colonel?  Has  he 
been  to  see  you  often  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Oliver,  you  know  the  Colonel  is  in  Egypt." 

"  By  Jove  I  had  forgotten  it.  You  must  have  been 
horribly  lonely." 

"  Well,  now  I  have  you  back,"  replied  Sybil  steadily, 
in  her  thrilling  voice ;  "  and  my  new  daughter,  to  keep 
me  company." 

Again  there  was  a  silence  which  seemed  full  of  un- 
uttered  things.  Then  Oliver  felt  in  his  pocket,  pulled 


22     A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

out  a  paper  and  tossed  it  on  Sybil's  lap.  "  There's  the 
new  Penman,"  he  said.  "  I  think  it's  pretty  good." 

She  looked  down  at  the  paper,  up  at  him.  "  Since 
the  paper  was  out,  you  might  have  taken  a  longer  honey- 
moon," she  said. 

"  Oh,  not  this  beastly  weather,"  he  flung  back  care- 
lessly. 

"  If  Astrid  has  had  enough  tea,  I  had  better  take  her 
upstairs,"  said  Sybil,  after  a  while. 

The  girl  turned  and  cast  a  look  at  her  husband,  a 
curious  look  which  his  mother  could  not  read.  As 
the  two  ladies  rose,  he  also  arose,  and  taking  his  wife's 
gloves  and  little  hand-bag,  he  gave  them  to  her.  She 
turned,  without  a  word  spoken,  and  followed  her  hostess 
upstairs. 

The  communicating  rooms  which  Sybil  had  prepared 
were  warm  and  bright  with  firelight.  She  chattered 
kindly  for  a  few  minutes,  showing  the  silent  girl  the 
resources  of  drawers  and  wardrobes,  and  that  the  bath- 
room was  just  across  the  passage.  She  spoke  of  the 
difficulty  they  had  had  in  arranging  their  hot-water 
supply  in  the  old  house,  and  added  the  information  that 
she  herself  was  born  there. 

Her  daughter-in-law  listened  silently,  but  not  alto- 
gether unresponsively.  She  seemed  to  be  putting  pres- 
sure upon  herself  to  seem  interested.  Her  one  trunk 
lay  upon  the  stand,  unstrapped.  She  declined  an  offer 
of  Drew's  assistance  in  her  unpacking. 

"Well  then,  I  will  leave  you  to  change.  There  is 
plenty  of  time,  you  need  not  hurry.  Put  your  toes  on 
the  fender  and  rest  after  your  journey.  I  dare  say 
the  last  two  days  have  seemed  crowded  with  experi- 
ences," said  Mrs.  Brendon  sympathetically.  "  I  must 
hear  all  about  it,  presently,  must  I  not?  .  .  .  And 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     23 

you  will  forgive  me  if  I  seem  just  a  little  unresponsive. 
An  only  son's  marriage  means  a  great  deal  to  a  wid- 
owed mother,  and  .  .  .  and  this  was  abrupt.  ..." 

She  had  to  break  off,  biting  her  lip. 

The  girl,  who  had  turned  her  back,  and  was  stand- 
ing with  clenched  hands,  cried  out  suddenly  — "  I  never 
knew  Mr.  Brendon  had  a  mother !  " 

"No?"  Sybil  paused  a  moment.  This  girl  had 
known  her  son  three  years.  In  all  that  time  he  had 
never  mentioned  his  mother!  It  seemed  conclusive 
proof  of  the  slightness  of  their  acquaintance.  But  at 
this  moment  she  felt  that  she  dare  not  touch  the  sub- 
ject. It  was  too  horribly  new,  the  wound  was  bleed- 
ing — "  You  must  tell  me  all  about  it,  later  on,"  she 
murmured,  and  escaped  from  the  room. 

In  the  drawing-room  stood  Oliver  before  the  fire, 
facing  her,  as  he  was  wont  to  do.  The  awfulness  of  the 
wreck  and  ruin  that  were  there,  hidden  under  the 
happy  guise  of  home  comfort  and  wonted  life,  made 
her  feel  so  ill  that  she  hesitated  to  enter.  His  ex- 
pression drew  her.  Her  boy  was  in  danger,  she  felt 
—  almost  could  she  have  told  herself  that  he  was 
possessed  by  a  devil.  Her  duty  was  to  go  to  his 
rescue. 

She  crossed  the  room,  carefully  closing  the  door  be- 
hind her,  went  up  to  him,  and  stood  confronting  him. 
It  was  a  look  that  besought  his  confidence.  There  was 
no  reproach  in  it. 

"Well,  Oliver?" 

"  Well,"  he  replied  doggedly.  "  I  have  consoled  my- 
self, you  see." 

She  turned  away.  "  The  mother  who  had  no  place 
in  your  confidence  before  the  thing  was  done  is  doubt- 
less outside  your  counsels  now." 


24     A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Oh,  well,  a  man  had 
better  be  married,"  he  said. 

"  No  matter  to  whom  ? " 

"  With  one  exception,  women  are  just  the  same  to 
me." 

"  And  you  will  punish  this  poor  child  for  the  fault 
of  a  heartless  little  flirt  ?  Oliver,  think  what  you  have 
done.  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  your  wife? 
What  kind  of  future  lies  before  you  ?  " 

"  Future  ?  None  at  all.  No  need  to  worry  about 
that,"  he  answered  lightly.  "  My  future  is  all  over." 

"  Your  future  ...  but  hers  ?     What  of  hers  ?  " 

He  made  a  scornful  sound.  "  She  must  take  her 
chance,  as  other  women,  do." 

She  gazed  upon  him  blankly  for  a  few  minutes. 
"  Is  this  my  fault  ?  "  she  muttered,  under  her  breath. 

"  Well,"  said  her  son,  breaking  the  silence,  "  I  think 
I'll  go  and  have  a  pipe  before  dinner." 

"  No,"  said  Sybil  firmly,  "  you  will  not.  You  will 
stay  and  tell  me  about  your  wife.  You  have  brought 
her  here,  to  your  home,  to  your  mother.  Tell  me 
whether  she  is  such  a  woman  as  I  can  receive  as  my 
daughter-in-law." 

He  stood  contemplating  his  well-kept  nails,  his  eyes  . 
lowered.     "  She  is  quite  a  good  girl,  mother,"  he  said 
quietly,  "  if  that  is  what  you  mean." 

"  It  is  what  I  mean.  If  that  is  so,  if  she  is  a  good 
girl,  as  you  say,  how  came  she  to  marry  you  in  such 
a  fashion  —  a  fashion  so  disastrous  to  herself  and  to 
me?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  She  has  no  relations,  prac- 
tically, except  one  or  two  aunts  in  Ireland.  There  was 
no  need  to  make  a  fuss." 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     25 

"  She  tells  me  that  she  never  even  knew  of  my  ex- 
istence !  " 

"  Oh !  "  he  looked  up.  "  She  told  you  that !  Well, 
apparently  I  did  not  mention  it.  Hang  it  all,  mother," 
he  added  with  sudden  irritation,  "  if  I  had  let  you 
know,  you  would  have  stopped  it,  would  you  not  ? " 

"  Yes.  I  should.  It  would  have  been  my  duty  to 
stop  you  if  I  could  on  hearing  that  you  contemplated 
any  act  of  insanity,  even  a  less  tragic  one  than  that 
you  have  chosen." 

His  look  changed.  "  Nonsense  about  insanity,"  he 
said.  "  I  married  the  girl  to  save  myself  from  that. 
She's  all  right  —  quite  good  company  when  she  comes 
out  of  this  curious  attitude  which  she  has  adopted  al- 
most ever  since  the  ceremony.  I  want  you  to  take  her 
in  hand,  and  get  her  some  clothes  and  so  on.  She  has 
possibilities.  Only  she  must  be  taken  the  right  way." 

"Which  you,  so  far,  don't  seem  to  have  succeeded 
in  doing,"  flashed  Sybil. 

"Oh,  she'll  be  all  right,"  he  answered  irritably. 
"  I  shan't  beat  her." 

"  She  looks  as  though  that  were  what  she  expected." 

"  She  expects  the  moon,"  was  the  curt  response. 
"  When  she  finds  she  can't  get  it,  she  will  settle  down 
all  right.  You  won't  dislike  her,  I  promise  you, 
mother." 

"  I  like  her  a  great  deal  better  than  I  like  you,  at 
the  present  moment,"  she  cried,  as  she  fled  from  the 
room  for  fear  of  a  complete  breakdown. 


CHAPTER  IV 

My  lord  was  pale  with  inward  strife, 

And  Nell  was  pale  with  pride; 

My  lord  gazed  long  on  pale  Maud  Clare 

Or  ever  he  kissed  the  bride. —  CHRISTINA  ROSSETTT. 

MRS.  OLIVER  BRENDON  made  her  appearance  for 
dinner,  attired  in  a  white  silk  blouse  which  had  obvi- 
ously been  washed  and  ironed  many  times.  It  was 
quite  clean,  but  the  lace  which  trimmed  it  had  grown 
limp  and  cottony,  and  it  was  far  too  loose  for  the  un- 
comfortably slim  form  which  it  covered.  With  it  the 
bride  wore  a  black  skirt,  also  of  an  elderly  appearance. 
A  string  of  blue  beads  completed  her  toilette. 

Sybil  felt  ashamed  of  her  own  grey  satin  and  lace 
and  enamels.  She  knew  her  son  had  married  a  girl 
without  money ;  but  to  be  without  money  to  the  extent 
of  not  possessing  an  evening  frock,  "  even  of  any  kind," 
was  an  extreme  she  had  not  anticipated. 

Fortunately,  nobody  was  present  to-night  but  herself ; 
but  she  felt  that  the  incongruous  attire  of  his  wife  must 
impress  her  fastidious  son  unfavourably.  To  the 
woman's  mind  it  showed  one  thing  clearly  enough.  The 
girl  was  no  money-grabber.  Had  she  been  she  would 
have  extorted  some  money  to  buy  clothes ;  she  would  not 
have  risked  such  a  first  appearance,  before  the  critical 
eyes  of  a  mother-in-law.  Oliver  had  said  he  wished 
his  mother  to  take  her  in  hand  and  get  her  some  clothes. 
Sybil  wondered  whether  so  dowdy  a  g^rl  would  ever 
buy  or  wear  the  right  thing. 

26 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      27 

She  felt  quite  paralysed  by  misery  as  the  three  sat 
down,  on  three  sides  of  the  dining-table,  to  discuss 
their  well-served  little  meal.  Where  could  she  begin  ? 
How  try  to  break  down  the  wall,  or  bridge  the  gulf,  be- 
tween herself  and  this  gauche  girl  from  the  unknown  ? 

"  You  have  been  typewriting  professionally,  my  son 
tells  me  ?  "  she  asked  presently.  "  How  long  have  you 
been  in  London  ?  " 

"  Six  years,"  said  Astrid  unemotionally. 

"  And  your  home  was ?  " 

"  In  Ireland." 

Oliver  raised  his  head.  His  mother  caught  his 
glance  guiltily.  No  questions  as  to  his  wife's  antece- 
dents must  be  discussed  before  the  servants.  With 
obvious  determination  to  change  the  subject,  he  began 
to  talk  to  his  mother  about  Fire  from  the  Cloud,  the 
book  which  was  then  making  a  sensation  —  that  very 
book  which  she  had  been  reading  with  such  enjoyment 
when  his  letter  was  brought  to  her.  The  mere  thought 
of  it  hurt  her  physically.  Never  again  could  she  be 
or  feel  as  she  had  been  before  the  terrible  moment.  As 
she  replied  to  Oliver's  temperate  but  acute  criticism, 
she  felt  like  Andersen's  mermaid,  dancing  on  the  swords. 
He  addressed  her  as  if  his  wife  were  not  present.  His 
manner  towards  the  unlucky  girl  was  that  of  cold,  civil 
displeasure.  Sybil  resented  it,  and  tried  to  include  the 
girl  in  the  conversation.  "  Have  you  read  it  ? "  she 
asked,  alluding  to  the  book  with  an  encouraging  little 
smile. 

"  No,"  replied  Astrid.  Apparently  she  had  no  wish 
to  converse.  She  let  the  monosyllable  stand  quite  alone, 
while  her  eyes  were  once  more  bent  upon  her  plate. 
Sybil  noticed  that  she  ate  very  little. 

"  Do  you  not  care  for  reading  ? "  she  asked,  more 


28     A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

coldly  than  she  had  previously  spoken.  A  girl  so  en- 
tirely without  physical  allurement  should  at  least  be 
intelligent. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  like  it ;  but  I  have  not  much  time  for 
reading,"  was  the  slow  reply. 

"  You  will  have  more  time  in  future,"  suggested  the 
mother-in-law. 

Astrid  raised  her  eyes  for  the  first  time  to  her  face. 
"  Do  you  think  so  ? "  she  said  in  a  voice  which  im- 
plied, "  I  doubt  it." 

"  Of  course  mother  thinks  so,"  broke  in  Oliver. 
"  She  has  kept  house  for  one  man  all  her  life,  and  she 
knows  it  is  a  pursuit  which  leaves  a  very  fair  margin 
for  self-culture.  You  must  get  her  to  teach  you  the 
ropes." 

To  this  his  wife  made  no  reply  at  all;  and  after  an 
uncomfortable  interval,  he  went  on  talking  to  Sybil 
of  the  things  which  interested  them  both  —  the  new 
editor  of  this  paper,  and  the  change  of  proprietorship  of 
the  other. 

At  last  the  nightmare  meal  was  over,  and  Mrs.  Bren- 
don  rose  from  table  and  proceeded  with  her  daughter- 
in-law,  not  into  the  morning-room,  where  they  always 
passed  the  evenings  when  alone,  but  into  the  drawing- 
room,  in  honour  of  the  bride. 

"  Do  you  smoke  ?  "  asked  Sybil  kindly.  "  If  so  you 
will  like  to  go  and  smoke  with  Oliver  when  we  have 
drunk  our  coffee." 

"  I  don't  smoke,"  replied  Astrid. 

Her  lack  of  response  was  evidently  intentional. 
There  seemed  no  doubt  that  this  could  not  be  her  normal 
attitude.  Oliver  was  indeed  half  crazy  with  disap- 
pointment, but  he  could  not,  in  any  frame  of  mind, 
have  chosen  a  companion  so  dull,  so  colourless,  so  al- 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     29 

most  surly,  as  the  girl  now  appeared.  She  was  in  an 
abnormal  frame  of  mind  —  either  horribly  shy,  or  bit- 
terly disappointed — or  even  bitterly  resentful.  The 
latter  was  the  explanation  which  came  most  readily  to 
Sybil's  mind.  Resentful  —  but  of  what? 

They  sat  down,  on  either  side  of  the  fire,  facing  each 
other  across  the  hearthrug.  The  post  had  just  come 
in,  and  a  little  brass  tray  of  letters  stood  upon  the 
Moorish  table  at  Sybil's  elbow.  She  began,  with  a 
murmured  apology,  to  open  and  skim  through  her  cor- 
respondence. Silence  fell. 

There  were  one  or  two  notes  which  demanded  thought, 
and  the  hostess  lost  herself  for  some  minutes  in  con- 
sideration of  these.  Meanwhile  Oliver's  wife  sat  star- 
ing into  the  fire.  Her  shoulders  were  bent,  her  hands 
fell  limply  over  the  edge  of  her  lap,  her  thoughts  were 
apparently  both  absorbing  and  depressing.  After  a 
furtive  glance  at  her  vis-a-vis,  she  raised  her  eyes  to  the 
room  in  which  she  found  herself.  Slowly  she  consid- 
ered it.  From  the  mezzotints  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
the  secretaire,  the  bookcases,  the  grand  piano,  she  trav- 
elled on  to  lighter  things  —  tiny  bow-legged  tulip-wood 
bibelots  of  the  empire,  with  frivolous  vases,  and  bowls 
of  blossoming  bulbs  —  a  few  photos,  some  curios  in 
silver,  and  finally  an  orange-coloured  toy  spaniel,  curled 
up  asleep  upon  the  sweep  of  his  mistress's  grey  gown. 

From  the  dog,  that  searching  gaze  naturally  advanced 
to  the  dog's  mistress,  smiling  over  a  note  held  in  daintily 
kept  fingers. 

The  waved  hair  was  only  slightly  grey,  the  face  fresh 
and  soft,  almost  unwrinkled;  the  eyes  were  still  very 
pretty,  with  shadowy  lashes.  It  was  the  face  of  a 
woman  who  knows  her  world  and  is  assured  of  her  place 
therein  —  a  reposeful  face,  yet  full  of  light  and  shade. 


30     A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

It  was  probably  the  probing  of  those  questioning 
eyes  which  caused  her  to  look  up.  "  Well,"  she  said, 
"  this  is  too  bad  of  me !  To  be  reading  letters  when 
it  is  my  duty  to  make  friends  with  you.  Will  you  for- 
give it  if  I  ask  some  questions?  I  want  to  know  all 
about  you." 

Astrid  made  no  reply.  Her  attitude  seemed  to  im- 
ply that,  having  put  herself  in  a  position  which  made 
questions  allowable,  it  was  now  too  late  to  object.  At 
least,  that  was  what  was  suggested  to  Sybil's  mind  by 
the  passive  resistance  of  her  daughter-in-law. 

''You  tell  me  you  were  born  in  Ireland.  .  .  .  Oh, 
I  beg  your  pardon,  let  me  give  you  a  fire-screen  —  is 
that  better?  I  am  inconsiderate,  for  I  love  to  stare 
into  the  coals,  and  forget  that  others  have  sensitive 
skins,  or  eyes  —  well,  will  you  tell  me  something  of 
your  parents  ?  I  conclude  that  you  are  an  orphan ;  in 
fact,  I  think  Oliver  said  so." 

"  Yes.  Father  and  mother  both  died  at  the  same 
time.  It  was  diphtheria.  There  was  something  wrong 
with  our  house." 

"  That  is  very  sad.     How  long  ago  ?  " 

"  I  was  about  twelve.  Father  was  a  clergyman ;  he 
had  a  parish  in  Ulster." 

"  Indeed !  Then  upon  his  death  there  was  no  home 
for  you  ? " 

"  "No.  Mother  had  a  sister,  Miss  !Nblan,  my  aunt, 
who  lives  in  Dublin.  She  is  very  badly  off.  Father 
left  just  enough  money  for  me  to  be  educated.  I  lived 
with  Aunt  Kathie.  As  soon  as  I  was  old  enough  I  came 
to  London  to  earn  my  living." 

The  information  was  given  as  one  gives  something 
that  may  not  be  withheld.  "  I  have  to  say  this,  so  I 
may  as  well  get  it  said,"  was  the  idea  conveyed. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     31 

"  You  are  a  brave  girl,"  said  Sybil  kindly.  "  I  am 
very  sorry  for  you.  But  now  you  must  try  and  grow 
used  to  the  idea  that  your  loneliness  is  over,  and  that 
you  have  a  home  and  a  family." 

A  sort  of  shudder  passed  across  the  thin  frame,  and 
Astrid  gave  a  short,  mocking  laugh,  or  rather  scoff. 

Sybil  looked  at  her  in  ever-increasing  perplexity. 
Something  in  her  face  suggested  that  it  would  be  better 
to  be  quite  straightforward  with  her.  After  a  hesita- 
tion the  mother  went  on : 

"  I  must  own  that  I  was  hurt  and  surprised  that  my 
only  son  should  marry  without  informing  me  of  the 
fact  —  that  his  wife  should  be  an  utter  stranger.  But 
now  that  you  are  his  wife,  you  cannot  be  a  stranger  to 
me  —  at  least,  it  is  my  earnest  hope  that  we  may  be 
friends." 

The  girl  peered  at  her  from  half-shut  eyes.  She 
seemed  to  suspect  insincerity  in  this  speech.  Her  lip 
curled,  and  she  made  a  curious  gesture  with  arms  and 
shoulders  as  though  retiring  into  her  shell  and  shutting 
the  door. 

Sybil  made  a  supreme  effort.  "  Oliver  chose  you, 
and  he  has  good  taste,"  she  said  bravely.  "  I  take 
you  on  trust." 

The  girl's  manner  changed.  Quite  suddenly, 
gripping  the  arms  of  her  chair,  she  leaned  forward  to- 
wards the  other  woman,  her  eyes  all  ablaze. 

"  Tell  me  what  made  him  do  it,"  she  said  thickly. 
"What  is  the  game?  The  thing  behind?  Why  am 
I  dragged  here,  to  his  home,  where  I  am  not  wanted? 
What  did  he  want  with  me  ?  That  is  what  I  demand 
to  know  —  what  I  am  going  to  find  out." 

It  is  hard  to  analyse  Sybil's  emotions  during  this 
speech.  She  turned  from  red  to  white  as  she  contem- 


32     A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

plated  the  excitement  which  was  shaking  the  speaker 
from  head  to  foot. 

"  I  think,"  she  said  temperately,  "  that  you  are  more 
likely  to  be  able  to  answer  that  question  than  I  am.  I 
never  so  much  as  heard  your  name,  until  Oliver  wrote 
to  me  that  he  had  married  you.  You  say  you  have 
been  acquainted  for  some  years.  You  probably  know 
more  of  him  than  his  mother  has  ever  done." 

"  I  know  nothing  at  all  about  him !  He  is  a  stranger 
to  me,  a  complete  stranger " 

"  Then  forgive  me  if  I  enquire,"  interposed  Sybil, 
with  dignity,  "  why,  in  that  case,  you  became  his  wife  ? 
In  my  opinion,  that  is  the  question  which  needs  an  an- 
swer most  urgently." 

As  she  spoke  the  bell  pealed  through  the  house,  and 
in  a  flash  she  realised  what  had  happened.  The  Colo- 
nel had  returned,  and  had  dropped  in  as  was  his  habit, 
to  greet  them  and  hear  their  news.  He  always  came  in 
after  dinner.  He  had  been  away,  and  Sybil  was  ig- 
norant of  his  return;  otherwise  she  would  have  in- 
structed Drew  to  say  that  she  was  not  receiving.  Now 
it  was  too  late.  She  heard  his  voice  in  the  hall,  and 
the  cheery  bark  of  his  Aberdeen  terrier. 

"We  have  a  visitor,"  said  she,  rising  in  vexation. 
"  I  apologise,  I  had  no  idea  he  would  come,  or  I  wrould 
not  have  let  him  interrupt  our  first  evening !  " 

Before  Astrid  could  reply  Drew  opened  the  door,  and 
Colonel  Waring  walked  in. 

"  Hallo,  Mrs.  Brendon !  How  are  you  ?  I  only  got 
back  this  afternoon  from  Cairo,  and  thought  I  would 
run  up." 

Sybil  had  sprung  from  her  seat  and  traversed  half 
the  room  to  meet  him.  The  high  back  of  the  chair  oc- 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     33 

cupied  by  Mrs.  Oliver  concealed  the  slight  figure  alto- 
gether from  view.     He  continued  without  pause. 

"  I  was  anxious  to  find  out  how  Oliver  was  taking  it 
—  I  saw  the  Faulkners,  you  know,  at  Shepherd's,  on  my 
way  down " 

"  O,  did  you  really  ?  "  said  Sybil,  with  a  gasp  and 
an  unreal  little  laugh.  "You  must  tell  me  all  about 
that  later.  Let  me  now  present  to  you  my  daughter-in- 
law,  Mrs.  Oliver  —  whose  acquaintance  I  have  only 
just  made  myself." 

The  Colonel  stopped  short.  He  was  an  erect,  healthy 
man  of  fifty-seven  or  thereabouts  —  with  white  hair  and 
moustache,  but  an  air  of  fitness  and  energy  which  for- 
bade one  associating  the  idea  of  age  with  him.  His 
honest  grey  eyes  rested  upon  his  old  friend  with  a  look 
of  startled  sympathy,  merging  into  a  profound  compas- 
sion. 

There  was  but  the  slightest  pause  before  he  said: 

"  I  shall,  of  course,  be  delighted  to  meet  your  daugh- 
ter-in-law." 

"  Astrid,"  said  Sybil,  applying  her  tongue  to  the 
syllables  of  the  name  with  firmness,  "  here  is  a  very 
old  friend.  I  am  glad  he  should  be  the  first  to  wish 
you  joy." 

Mrs.  Oliver  rose  slowly  from  her  seat  and  faced  them. 
Her  mother-in-law,  wincing  from  the  anticipation  of 
the  effect  her  appearance  must  create,  had  a  shock  of 
surprise.  For  the  first  time  it  struck  her  that  the  girl 
possessed  a  queer,  elvish  beauty,  of  the  Rossetti  type. 
There  was  a  spot  of  colour  in  either  cheek,  her  eyes 
were  still  aflame  as  when  she  uttered  her  challenge  to 
Sybil. 

"  Many  congratulations,"  said  the  Colonel,  taking  her 


34      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

hand.  "  I  may  safely  offer  them.  You  are  indeed  a 
young  woman  to  be  congratulated,  not  only  upon  your 
husband,  though  I  admit  there  is  not  much  to  complain 
of  there,  as  young  men  go ;  but  upon  your  relationship 
to  this  lady,  than  whom  I  know  none  nobler  —  no,  not 
in  Britain."  He  raised  Sybil's  hand  to  his  lips  as  he 
spoke. 

Astrid  made  no  reply.  Her  look  expressed  bewilder- 
ment. She  sat  down  again  upon  her  chair,  while  the 
Colonel  also  seated  himself  and  Sybil  stood  with  one 
slim  foot  resting  upon  the  fender. 

"  Go,  Astrid,  to  the  smoking-room,  and  tell  Oliver 
that  the  Colonel  is  here,"  said  she. 

The  young  woman  opened  her  mouth  as  though  to 
object,  but  thought  better  of  it,  rose,  and  left  the  room, 
closing  the  door  behind  her. 

Between  those  two  a  deep  silence  fell.  Walter  War- 
ing was  powerless  to  break  it.  He  knew  she  dare  not 
speak,  for  fear  of  losing  self-control.  At  last  she  haz- 
arded a  word,  with  quivering  lip : 

"  Quick  work,  was  it  not  ?  " 

"  Amazing !  "  said  the  Colonel.  "  He  took  his  jilt- 
ing hard,  I  suppose." 

Her  eyes  swept  him  keenly.  "  So  you  understand  ? 
You  feel  that  is  a  sort  of  explanation?  You  try  to 
kill  one  pain  by  starting  another?  There  is  a  free- 
masonry among  men  which  enables  them  to  under- 
stand a  thing  like  that.  I  cannot  hope  to  do  it.  I 
am  outside."  The  vehemence  of  her  anger  caused  her 
to  forget  her  grief,  and  speak  on  passionately.  "  If  it 
had  been  a  ballet-girl  —  something  with  yellow  hair, 
and  white  teeth,  and  artificial  roses  and  lilies  —  I  be- 
lieve I  could  have  understood  it  better.  But  that  girl 
—  why  that  girl  ?  With  the  world  full  of  girls !  " 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      35 

"  I  doubt  if  Oliver's  world  is  full  of  girls,"  said  the 
Colonel  thoughtfully.  "All  the  better  for  him,  for 
you,  and  for  her.  I  suppose  it  was  simply  that  he  could 
have  her  for  the  asking,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  was ;  but  really  you  can  hardly  guess 
how  little  I  know  about  it.  When  he  got  the  news  of 
Vivien's  change  of  mind  he  went  away  from  me  —  I  ex- 
pect he  had,  deep  down  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  the 
knowledge  that  I  never  liked  Vivien,  nor  thought  her 
suitable.  Had  the  girl  he  cared  for  died,  he  would 
have  come  to  his  mother  for  comfort  —  I  know  he 
would  —  but  this  was  different." 

"  Yes,  yes.     How  well  you  understand  him !  " 

"  Walter,  I  don't  understand  him  the  least  bit  in  the 
world!  It  seemed  to  me  that  a  man  of  his  age,  bred 
to  habits  of  self-control,  and  with  strong  principles, 
would  grapple  with  a  trouble  like  his  and  get  the  better 
of  it.  I  did  not  like  being  cast  out,  but  I  determined  to 
bear  it,  and  not  worry  him.  I  ought  instead  to  have 
gone  to  London,  taken  possession  of  him,  whether  he 
repulsed  me  or  not,  and  allowed  him  to  pour  out  all 
that  was  in  his  heart!  He  might  have  vented  all  his 
misery  on  me.  I  could  have  borne  it,  I  am  his  mother 
.  .  .  but  I  left  him,  as  I  have  always  done,  to  his  own 
good  feeling.  I  said,  *  He  is  the  result  of  my  wonder- 
ful, highly  specialised  training  —  he  will  justify  it.' 
And  this  is  the  end  of  it  all !  " 

After  a  pause  Colonel  Waring  asked,  "  What  is  she 
like?  Will  she  hold  him?" 

"  She  has  never  had  hold  of  him,  even  for  a  moment, 
as  far  as  I  can  see.  He  seems  quite  unlike  himself. 
All  that  I  can  be  sure  of  at  present  is  that  she  resents 
the  way  he  is  treating  her." 

"  Is  he  not  kind  to  her  ?  " 


36     A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"  They  do  not  seem  to  me  to  be  at  all  on  good  terms. 
No  wonder !  How  lie  must  despise  a  woman  that  could 
consent  to  such  a  marriage!  She  told  me  almost  di- 
rectly she  arrived  that  he  had  not  mentioned  my  ex- 
istence to  her;  and  when  I  asked  him  her  Christian 
name  he  did  not  know  it !  What  is  to  be  done  ?  " 

He  puckered  his  mouth  in  a  silent  whistle.  "  I 
suppose  they  really  are  married,  all  fair  and 
square  ?  " 

"  Oh,  beyond  doubt.  He  would  never  affront  me 
by  —  ah,  yes,  he  has  put  a  serious  affront  upon  me, 
but  that  would  be  unpardonable." 

"  When  were  they  married  ?  " 

"  On  Saturday  morning." 

"And  this  is  Monday!  He  brought  her  here  to- 
day?" 

"  Today." 

"Well,"  remarked  the  Colonel,  after  another  inter- 
val, "  he's  been  and  gone  and  done  it,  hasn't  he  ?  " 

Sybil  raised  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  and  after 
drying  them,  held  it  over  her  mouth,  whose  lines  she 
she  could  not  control. 

"  They  seem  to  be  dallying  in  the  smoking-room," 
remarked  the  Colonel  presently.  "  Is  that  a  hopeful 
sign  ? " 

"  I  don't  expect  she  went  there,"  returned  Mrs.  Bren- 
don.  "  I  suppose  her  to  have  gone  up  to  her  room." 

"  Well,  but  this  is  very  serious " 

"  You  may  well  say  so." 

"  Shall  I  go  into  the  smoking-room  and  make  sure  ?  " 

"Yes,  do.  See  what  you  make  of  him.  He  may 
say  more  to  you  than  he  will  to  me.  I  feel  as  if  he 
were  some  relative  whom  I  had  met  this  afternoon  for 
the  first  time." 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     37 

"  What  makes  it  more  pitiable  is  the  fact  that  I  don't 
think  Vivien  at  all  certain  to  marry  this  man  Railton," 
said  the  Colonel  slowly. 

"  Good  heavens,  Walter !  Don't  say  a  word  of  that 
to  Oliver !  " 

"  Not  quite  such  a  fool,  my  dear.  But  I  will  own 
that  I  came  in  to-night  with  an  idea  of  heartening  that 
boy  up.  The  thing  was  engineered  by  Lady  Faulkner, 
and  the  silly  little  girl  was  caught  by  the  man's  flattery, 
and  the  presents  he  gave  her.  I  believe  the  sight  of 
Oliver  in  the  flesh  would  have  disillusioned  her.  Rail- 
ton  is  plain  and  rather  stumpy,  but  with  a  Yankee 
tongue.  Told  her  a  lot  of  stuff  about  the  position  of 
woman  in  America,  and  how  she  would  be  a  goddess 
and  a  queen,  and  what  a  grand  time  she  would  have  in 
Newport.  I  don't  believe  for  a  moment  that  he  is  in 
the  Newport  set." 

"  Oh,  Walter,  how  perfectly  dreadful  it  all  is !  ... 
When  are  the  Faulkners  expected  home  ?  " 

"  In  another  fortnight,  I  believe.  Railton  wants  to 
get  married  at  once.  He  is  head-over-ears  in  love,  and 
has  the  sense  to  see  that  he  must  secure  the  volatile  crea- 
ture at  once  if  at  all." 

Sybil  raised  her  two  hands  and  let  them  drop,  with 
a  despairing  gesture.  "Well,  he  has  rolled  the  stone 
upon  his  own  grave.  As  for  me,  if  I  had  to  choose 
between  Vivien  and  Astrid  for  my  daughter-in-law,  I 
believe  I  should  choose  Astrid.  Her  father  was  an 
Ulster  Protestant.  It  is  not  a  lovable  type,  but  it 
has  backbone ;  and  the  Faulkners  have  none." 

"  You  are  right,  as  usual,"  he  said,  rising  with  the  in- 
tention of  seeking  Oliver.  As  he  turned  to  leave  the 
room  the  door  opened,  and  the  young  man  entered,  with 
a  bundle  of  proofs  in  his  hand. 


38      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"  Hallo,  Colonel,  you  got  back  ? "  he  said,  with  a 
slight  start.  "  Been  in  —  in  Egypt,  haven't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  am  glad  to  be  back  again ;  the  heat  was 
beginning  to  be  pretty  bad  —  an  early  spring.  I  have 
just  been  presented  to  your  wife,  and  must  offer  my 
good  wishes." 

"  Thanks.  Where  has  she  gone,  mother  ? "  said 
Oliver,  coming  to  the  hearth. 

"  I  don't  know,  Oliver.  I  asked  her  to  go  to  the 
smoking-room  to  tell  you  that  the  Colonel  was  here." 

"  That  young  woman  does  not  know  her  wifely  duties 
yet,"  said  Oliver,  with  a  smile  which  his  mother  did 
not  like.  "  I  shall  have  to  try  and  be  a  bit  of  a  Petru- 
chio,  till  I  have  tamed  her." 

"  I  can't  see  you  in  that  role,  my  boy,"  said  Colonel 
Waring. 

Oliver  laughed.  "  My  family  seems  to  have  settled 
upon  what  kind  of  role  I  am  fit  for,  very  early  in  my 
career,"  he  remarked.  "  Perhaps  I  shall  astonish  you 
all  before  I  have  done." 

"  I  think  that  is  accomplished  already,  Oliver,"  said 
his  mother  softly.  "  Nothing  that  you  could  do  would 
astonish  me  now."  She  was  sorry  for  her  bitterness 
immediately ;  but  it  escaped  —  there  was  no  holding  it. 

Her  son  ignored  her  remark  completely.  With  no 
further  allusion  to  his  marriage,  he  sat  down,  and 
began  to  turn  over  the  galley-slips  in  his  hand.  "  It's 
a  happy  chance,  your  being  here,  Colonel.  Here  is  an 
article  about  Tetuan,  and  the  man  seems  to  me  to  have 
made  a  serious  mistake.  If  he  is  right  in  that  respect, 
I  shall  print  the  thing,  for  it  is  good.  But  I  can't  think 
that  what  he  says  about  the  French  garrison  will  hold 
water.  Give  me  your  opinion." 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     39 

With  a  glance  at  Sybil,  the  Colonel  set  himself  to  read 
and  discuss  the  article  in  question. 

After  a  while  the  mother  slipped  away,  mindful  of 
her  guest,  who  seemed  to  have  retired  for  the  night. 

She  found  the  door  of  Astrid's  room  locked,  and  her 
voice  spoke  through  the  panels.  "  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  May  I  come  in  ?  I  am  anxious  that  you  should 
have  all  you  want,  and  to  tell  you  about  breakfast,  and 
so  on." 

"  I  have  everything,  thank  you.  I  can't  very  well 
let  you  in  just  now." 

"  What  time  would  you  like  to  be  called  ? " 

"  I  do  not  want  to  be  called,  thanks.  I  wake  early. 
What  time  is  breakfast  ?  If  you  tell  me  that,  I  will  be 
punctual." 

"  But  what  time  shall  she  bring  your  tea  ?  " 

"  I  would  rather  not  have  any,  thank  you." 

"  But  Oliver  always  has  it." 

"  Of  course.  He  will  be  in  the  next  room,  and  will 
tell  you  what  time  he  wants  to  be  called." 

Sybil  turned  away,  her  face  white.  Astrid  did  in- 
deed appear  to  require  instruction  in  her  wifely  duties. 
But  the  mother-in-law  did  not  feel  by  any  means  ready 
to  impart  such  instruction. 

Suddenly  she  felt  old,  and  all  alone  in  the  world,  as 
she  turned  from  that  locked  door. 


CHAPTER  V 

You  shall  see  how  the  devil  spends 

A  fire  God  gave  for  other  ends! 

I  tell  you,  I  stride  up  and  down 

This  garret,  crowned  with  love's  best  crown, 

And  feasted  with  love's  perfect  feast, 

To  think  I  kill  for  her  at  least, 

Body  and  soul  and  peace  and  fame, 

Alike  youth's  end,  and  manhood's  aim. 

R.  BROWNING. 

BEFORE  she  slept,  there  were  words  which  Sybil  Bren- 
don  must  say  to  her  son. 

She  must  know  whether  he  was  going  to  town  the 
following  morning,  leaving  his  wife  and  herself  to  each 
other's  society;  and  above  all  she  must  manage  to  con- 
vey to  him  the  Colonel's  disquieting  information  con- 
cerning the  imminent  return  of  the  Faulkners. 

Before  their  arrival  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Oliver  Brendon 
must  be  safely  bestowed  in  some  home  of  their  own,  out 
of  reach  of  Thackridge  tongues. 

She  waited  until  she  heard  the  Colonel  departing,  as 
he  always  did,  upon  the  stroke  of  half-past  ten.  Then 
she  went  down  into  the  drawing-room  and  resolutely 
took  her  accustomed  place,  with  the  plain  intention  of 
remaining  there  for  the  present.  Oliver  had  just 
switched  off  the  light  of  the  little  lamp  which  always 
stood  beside  her  chair.  He  switched  it  on  again,  with 
the  remark: 

"  Going  to  burn  the  midnight  oil  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  she,  taking  up  her  crochet,  that  she  might 

40 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     41 

have  occupied  hands  and  eyes  in  the  forthcoming  inter- 
view, "  I  won't  keep  you  up  long,  but  there  are  one  or 
two  things  I  would  like  to  know  before  you  go  upstairs. 
Are  you  intending  to  go  to  the  office  to-morrow  ? " 

He  stood  upon  the  heathrug,  his  hands  thrust  into  his 
pockets,  one  foot  pushing  a  coal  to  and  fro  upon  the 
hearth  of  white  tiles.  "  I  must,"  he  replied.  "  I  al- 
ways go  on  Tuesdays." 

"  And  will  you  leave  your  wife  with  me  ?  " 

"  Have  you  any  objection  ?  " 

"  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  receive  her,  Oliver,  but 
we  must  come  to  some  understanding.  You  have 
chosen  to  marry  this  girl,  and  you  are  responsible  for 
her." 

He  did  not  answer  for  a  time.  At  last,  "  Look  here, 
mother,"  he  said,  in  an  odd,  suppressed  voice,  "  I  am 
going  to  ask  you  a  favour.  You  must  guess  that  I 
am  feeling  pretty  bad  about  the  way  I  have  treated  you, 
and  —  and  other  things.  Will  you  let  it  all  rest  for  a 
few  days  —  say  a  week  or  two  —  and  give  me  time  to 
try  and  collect  the  scattered  fragments  of  my  old  self  ? 
I  know  it  is  asking  a  lot,  and  you  have  had  too  much  to 
bear  already  —  but  if  you  would  just  accept  the  situa- 
tion for  a  week  or  two,  and  try  to  get  on  as  well  as  you 
can  with  —  with  Mrs.  Oliver  —  perhaps  I  shall  be  more 
able  to  look  things  in  the  face." 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  postpone  such  a  talk  as  this  for 
ever,  Oliver,"  she  replied,  in  a  voice  of  pain  which  was 
more  pitiful  than  much  anger.  "  But  as  to  what  you 
suggest  —  that  you  and  —  and  Mrs.  Oliver  —  should 
remain  here  a  fortnight  —  there  is  a  serious  objection 
to  that.  To  begin  with,  it  seems  to  me  that  you  need 
a  longer  honeymoon  —  time  to  grow  used  to  one  an- 
other, before  you  are  ready  to  face  the  keen  eyes  and 


42     A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

ears  of  this  interested  little  suburb.  The  other  objec- 
tion is  more  weighty.  The  Colonel  tells  me  that  the 
Faulkners  will  be  back  in  a  fortnight;  and  you  would 
certainly  not  wish  to  be  here  then." 

He  showed  no  discomposure.  "  I  know  they  are 
coming  back  in  a  fortnight,"  he  replied.  "  That  is  the 
very  reason  why  I  wish  to  be  here,  with  my  wife. 
What  I  would  ask  you  to  do,  is  to  see  that  she  has 
good  clothes  —  very  good  ones  —  I  would  like  her  to 
have  a  really  swell  turn-out  for  the  wedding.  Have  a 
taxi  to-morrow  and  take  her  to  town  before  anybody 
sees  her.  It  was  unlucky  old  Waring  coming  in  this 
evening,  but  he  is  all  right,  he  will  not  talk.  Let  her 
have  good  boots,  and  good  hats,  and  her  hair  properly 
done.  You  are  the  person  to  persuade  her." 

Sybil  was  so  astonished  that  it  was  long  before  she 
could  answer.  This  was  the  reason,  then,  for  his  ex- 
traordinary marriage  —  he  wanted  to  flaunt  his  wife  in 
Vivien's  face !  —  But  in  that  case,  why  choose  the  type- 
writing Miss  Carey?  Why  not  somebody  showy? 

"  I  have  not  much  faith  in  my  power  to  persuade 
your  wife  to  anything,  Oliver,"  she  replied  at  length. 
"  She  is  not  easy  to  know." 

"  No,  by  Jove,  she's  not,"  replied  the  young  man, 
with  a  sudden  wistful  relapse  into  his  own,  almost 
boyish  home  manner,  which  brought  a  lump  in  his 
mother's  throat.  "  Thought  she  was  the  kind  of  girl 
you  could  do  anything  with,"  he  said.  "  Shows  how 
much  I  know  about  it,  doesn't  it  ?  However,  the  thing 
now  is  to  try  and  pacify  her  as  much  as  you  can,  until 
after  the  Faulkner  wedding.  After  that,  she  may  go 
to  the  devil,  for  all  I  cara" 

With  these  horrible  words,  he  turned  and  walked  to 
the  door.  Sybil  bowed  her  head  upon  her  hands.  She 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     43 

thought  of  the  girl's  sudden,  vehement  appeal.  "  Why 
did  he  marry  me  ?  What  was  his  game  ?  " 

He,  her  son,  her  upright,  gentle-natured  Oliver,  had 
sacrificed  this  poor  girl  to  his  own  pique,  his  humilia- 
tion -and  sense  of  injury. 

And  it  was  foolish,  fluffy  Vivien  who  had  twisted 
him  out  of  his  place  and  broken  him ;  exposed  his  weak- 
ness, laid  bare  his  defects  of  character. 

As  long  as  his  life  had  pleased  him,  and  flowed 
through  easy  channels,  he  had  been  so  delightful  and 
so  good  that  his  own  mother  had  no  idea  of  the  elements 
of  his  nature. 

"Well,  mother,"  he  said,  coming  back  to  the  fire, 
"  will  you  do  what  you  can  with  her  ?  " 

"  Oliver,"  she  cried  hotly,  "  you  cheated  that  poor 
girl  —  you  made  her  think  you  cared  about  her  ?  " 

"  I  did  nothing  of  the  sort,"  he  answered,  with  equal 
heat.  "  I  said,  '  Will  you  marry  me  ? '  and  she  said, 
'  Yes,  certainly.'  I  mean  to  be  jolly  kind  to  her  if  she 
behaves  herself.  But  I  can  tell  you  she  had  better  mind 
what  she  is  about." 

Sybil  rose,  making  half  blindly  for  the  door.  "  Oh, 
Oliver,  you  make  me  shudder !  " 

"  I  am  sorry.  I  told  you  I  am  not  fit  to  discuss 
these  things.  I  am  not  in  my  right  mind  —  not  nor- 
mal yet,  by  a  long  way.  Do  as  I  beg  you  —  let  it  all 
rest  for  the  present,  and  help  me  to  make  the  girl  pre- 
sentable." 

"  I  think  it  quite  unlikely  that  she  will  submit  to 
the  process." 

"  Mother,  that's  nonsense.  She  has  jolly  well  got  to 
do  as  I  choose." 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about.  If 
you  imagine  that  the  modern  husband  can  make  sump- 


44      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

tuary  laws  and  have  them  obeyed,  it  merely  shows  how 
much  you  have  to  learn.  I  remember  a  friend  of  ours 
once  took  a  fancy  to  a  girl  who  had  many  good  points, 
but  a  floppy  appearance.  He  said  he  could  easily  per- 
suade her  to  wear  corsets  after  marriage;  and  married 
her  in  that  delusive  hope !  Poor  fellow !  His  struggle 
did  not  last  long !  A  determined  girl  will  wear  nothing 
that  she  does  not  fancy." 

"  Tut,  tut,  there  are  ways  and  means,"  said  Oliver 
irritably.  He  turned  away.  "  Then  you  won't  try." 

She  wrestled  with  herself.  Bad  as  things  were  they 
might  be  worse  if  she  insisted  upon  the  newly  married 
couple  leaving  her  at  once. 

"  I  will  try,  but  I  do  not  promise  to  succeed." 

" '  'Tis  not  with  mortals  to  command  success/  as 
I  know  to  my  cost.  Good  night,  mother.  Can  you 
make  up  your  mind  to  kiss  me  ? " 

"  Honestly,  Oliver,  I  don't  think  I  can.  You  seem 
to  me  too  wholly  odious." 

"  That  is  apparently  my  wife's  opinion,  as  well  as 
my  mother's.  I'm  a  lost  soul!  My  fiancee  jilts  me, 
my  wife  won't  let  me  come  near  her,  and  my  mother 
won't  kiss  me.  There  remains  only  drink  or  suicide." 

"Oliver,  don't  talk  like  that!  Don't  talk  at  all! 
As  you  wisely  suggested  at  the  first,  let  us  put  off  all 
this  discussion.  I  must  kiss  you,  good  or  bad,  because 
you  are  my  son,  and  nothing  can  alter  that !  " 

Next  morning  Astrid  came  down  to  breakfast 
punctually  upon  the  sounding  of  the  gong.  She  still 
wore  her  air  of  frigid  composure.  Sybil  made  spas- 
modic efforts  to  talk,  but  Astrid's  ears  were  evidently 
on  the  alert  for  the  sound  of  her  husband's  approach. 

He  entered,  not  more  than  five  minutes  late,  and 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      45 

went  to  where  his  mother  sat  presiding  over  the  coffee, 
kissing  her  with  an  air  of  spontaneous  affection.  Then 
he  turned,  looked  at  his  wife,  and  said  drily,  "  Good 
morning." 

She  flushed  uneasily  as  she  replied  "  Good  morning." 

"  I  hope  you  slept  well,  but  you  don't  look  it,"  went 
on  Oliver.  "  You  have  dark  marks  under  your  eyes." 

"  I  drank  coffee  yesterday  evening.  It  kept  me 
awake,"  she  answered,  with  an  odd  mixture  of  fear  and 
defiance. 

"  When  you  get  used  to  Thackridge  air,  you  won't 
find  that  coffee  has  any  effect,"  said  Oliver  lightly,  with 
an  air  of  wishing  to  soothe  her.  "  If  my  mother  has 
time,  I  want  you  and  her  to  have  a  great  day  in  the 
West  End  among  the  shops." 

Astrid  looked  surprised.  His  conciliatory  attitude 
was  unexpected.  Her  husband  leaned  across  and  put 
a  cheque  in  her  plate.  "  That  is  for  your  trousseau," 
he  told  her ;  "  it  is  not  your  first  quarter's  allowance. 
You  are  to  spend  it  all  upon  such  things  as  you  want." 

The  girl  made  a  quick  movement,  pushing  the  slip 
of  paper  from  her. 

"  I  have  some  money  of  my  own.  I  will  buy  what 
I  want,  thank  you,"  she  replied. 

"  What  independence !  "  said  Sybil  playfully.  "  I 
am  on  your  side,  Astrid!  Don't  let  him  be  King 
Cophetua,  or  he  will  be  unbearable !  But  if  he  means 
this  for  a  wedding  present,  I  suppose  it  would  be  un- 
gracious to  refuse  it,  would  it  not  ? " 

The  large,  sombre  eyes  were  turned  questioningly 
upon  the  speaker.  "  Could  I  make  a  friend  of  you  ? 
Dare  I  trust  you,  in  this  terrible  impasse  wherein  I  am 
landed  ? "  they  seemed  to  be  asking. 

Sybil  was  still  smiling. 


46     A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"  I  expect  he  did  not  think  to  give  you  much  of 
a  wedding  present,  did  he?  Men  are  like  that,  when 
they  try  to  do  things  all  alone !  " 

Astrid  looked  down  upon  her  hand,  where  her  wed- 
ding ring  lay  in  solitude.  "  I  don't  want  presents," 
she  faltered. 

"You  take  yourself  and  life  too  seriously,  young 
woman.  My  father  used  to  say  — t  Never  refuse  money 
when  it  is  offered  you.'  I  might  add  — l  Especially  if 
it  is  offered  by  your  husband,  who  certainly  ought  to 
have  provided  it  before ! '  Put  that  cheque  in  your 
pocket,  and  you  and  I  will  go  to  town  and  buy  frocks 
together." 

Astrid  nerved  herself  to  speak.  "  I  must  go  to  town 
to  see  about  some  work,"  she  remarked. 

"  Work !     What  kind  of  work  ?  " 

"  Another  typewriting  post." 

Sybil  looked  grave.  "What  does  Oliver  say  to 
that?" 

Oliver  answered  quickly  — "  She  knows  I  do  not 
wish  it." 

"  Suppose  you  were  to  take  a  month's  holiday  ? " 
suggested  her  mother-in-law.  "  Oliver  has  acted  incon- 
siderately, he  has  hurried  you,  and  you  look  worn  out. 
Let  us  see  what  a  month's  rest  and  quiet  here,  as  my 
guest,  will  do  for  you.  Will  you  think  it  over  ?  Stay 
here  for  a  month  with  me,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time, 
should  you  still  wish  to  go  to  typewriting  again,  per- 
haps we  might  persuade  Oliver  to  take  a  different  view 
of  the  matter." 

"  I  think  that's  an  excellent  idea,  mother,"  said 
Oliver  placably. 

Astrid  looked  earnestly  upon  him. 

Sybil  saw  with  wonder  the  hostility,  the  deep  dis- 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      47 

trust  which  her  look  embodied.  From  the  son,  the 
stranger  girl's  eyes  wandered  to  his  mother,  surprising 
on  her  face  the  close  questioning  of  a  thorough  bewil- 
derment Astrid  grew  red,  made  an  effort,  and  said 
under  her  breath: 

"'Very  well,  then,  a  month.  That  is,  if  you  tell  me 
that  at-  the  end  of  that  month  I  shall  be  free  to  decide 
as  I  think  proper." 

"  You  shall,"  said  Oliver,  quite  readily.  "  You 
shall  go  to  the  moon  if  you  really  want  to,  if  you  will 
just  play  up  now,  and  do  as  mother  asks  you." 

With  the  words,  he  rose  from  the  table,  gathered 
up  his  letters  and  left  the  room.  Silence  fell  between 
the  two  women  sitting  there  together  in  their  utter 
incongruity. 

"Well,"  said  the  mother-in-law,  rising  at  length, 
"  I  must  go  and  give  orders.  What  time  would  you 
like  to  start  ?  There  is  a  good  train  in  about  an  hour's 
time,  and  Oliver  will  send  us  up  a  fly  from  the  station." 

"  Any  time,"  said  Astrid  mechanically,  "  it  is  all 
the  same  to  me."  She  too  rose;  and  after  hesitation, 
asked  this  question :  "  Should  we  have  time  to  go  into 
the  National  Gallery,  do  you  think  \  " 

Sybil  paused,  in  act  to  leave  the  room.  "  The 
National  Gallery?  I  dare  say.  You  want  to  go 
there  ? " 

"  I  have  never  seen  the  new  Van  der  Neer  by  day- 

«/  t/ 

light  yet,"  said  the  girl  timidly,  but  appealingly. 

"  You  are  fond  of  pictures  ?  " 

"  Yes."  The  reply  did  not  sound  enthusiastic.  "  I 
suppose,"  she  added  slowly,  "  that  Mr.  Brendon  will 
not  mind  my  doing  my  weekly  half-column  for  the  Art 
Companion,  will  he  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  not,  certainly." 


48     A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

"  I  should  be  sorry  to  lose  that.  It  is  half  a  guinea 
a  week,"  said  Astrid  unemotionally ;  and  turning  aside, 
she  opened  a  newspaper,  and  glanced  at  it. 

"  Then  we  will  start  at  a  quarter  to  ten,  and  lunch 
in  town,"  said  Sybil. 

A  little  later,  she  made  her  way  into  Mrs.  Oliver's 
room,  in  order  to  ascertain,  if  she  could,  what  clothes, 
if  any,  the  girl  possessed.  Astrid  made  no  objection  to 
showing  her  poverty  of  wardrobe. 

"  I  had  no  time  to  make  clothes,"  she  said,  "  for  I 
could  not  afford  to  lose  my  last  fortnight's  wages. 
I  had  just  bought  a  whole  series  of  British  poets,  and  it 
made  me  very  hard  up." 

"  Well,  we  ought  to  be  able  to  fit  you  out  well,  with 
this  cheque  of  Oliver's." 

"  Just  as  you  like,"  replied  the  girl,  with  a  sigh. 

She  was  perfectly  tractable,  if  also  perfectly  passive. 
There  was  about  her  a  stillness  and  restraint  which 
Mrs.  Brendon  rather  admired.  Her  features,  though 
nothing  remarkable,  were  by  no  means  bad.  Her  hair 
had  distinct  possibilities.  Though  she  seemed  to  take 
little  interest  in  their  shopping,  what  few  remarks  she 
made  were  intelligent,  and  to  the  point.  Her  real  in- 
terest was  no  doubt  centred  upon  the  National  Gallery, 
and  the  new  Dutch  pictures  which  had  just  been  added. 
While  they  lunched  together  —  Sybil  took  her  to  a 
restaurant,  deciding  not  to  face  her  Club  friends  until 
the  young  woman  was  suitably  gowned  —  she  explained 
her  keenness  by  saying  that  when  she  was  at  work  she 
hardly  ever  had  a  chance  to  see  pictures  by  daylight. 
Her  knowledge  of  what  was  being  exhibited  in  London 
was,  nevertheless,  remarkable. 

They  had  not  completed  all  their  purchases  until  past 
four,  when,  after  having  tea,  they  returned  to  one  shop 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      49 

where  Sybil  had  chosen  a  couple  of  frocks  which  needed 
only  very  slight  alteration  to  be  ready  for  wear.  The 
alterations  had  been  duly  made  and  the  bride,  now 
wearing  a  becoming  hat,  was  attired  in  her  street  suit, 
the  result  of  the  change  being  more  pleasing  than  Mrs. 
Brendon  had  foreseen.  It  was  a  comforting  fact  to 
her  mother-in-law  that  her  under-clothing  was  in  all 
respects  superior  to  her  outer  covering. 

The  second  frock,  for  home  evening  wear,  they  car- 
ried with  them  down  to  Thackridge ;  and  as  soon  as  they 
arrived  home,  Sybil  found  a  good  deal  of  pleasure  in 
seeing  Astrid  put  it  on. 

Its  drooping  line  set  off  the  slimness  of  her  build; 
and  the  somewhat  bizarre  tints  of  the  coloured  embroid- 
ery, which  was  a  feature  of  the  corsage,  harmonised 
with  the  light  brown  hair  and  soft,  deep  eyes.  Sybil 
added  a  Venetian  necklace,  and  found  herself  quite 
astonished  at  the  effect  which  becoming  dress  will  pro- 
duce. She  told  her  maid  to  do  Mrs.  Oliver's  hair,  and 
Morris,  the  maid,  was  surprised  at  its  abundance.  The 
general  effect  of  the  bride  was  really  pleasing.  Sybil 
felt  that,  with  one  flash  of  joy,  one  charm  of  expression, 
she  might  be  a  very  taking  young  person.  The  fashion 
of  her  countenance,  however,  did  not  change.  The 
tragic  look,  as  of  a  gambler  who  has  thrown  his  last 
stake  and  lost  it,  was  ever  upon  the  sunless  face.  She 
had  said  nothing  all  day  long  in  allusion  to  her  mar- 
riage, and  the  elder  woman  felt  that  the  time  for  confi- 
dences had  by  no  means  arrived.  There  was  an  uneasy 
conviction  that,  as  the  hour  for  Oliver's  return  drew 
nigh,  the  cloud  grew  deeper  —  that  she  and  her 
daughter-in-law,  or  she  and  her  son,  might  get  on  ad- 
mirably; but  that  for  the  three  of  them,  there  was  no 
such  happy  possibility. 


50      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

They  were  both  in  the  drawing-room  together  when 
he  entered.  A  sudden  storm  of  rain  had  brought  him 
into  the  house  so  wet  that  he  had  run  up  to  change  be- 
fore facing  them.  He  entered,  ready  for  dinner,  and 
his  eye  fell  upon  the  two,  one  on  either  side  of  the 
hearth.  Both  were  reading.  His  wife  sat  a  little  side- 
ways, to  catch  the  light  upon  her  page.  He  saw  her 
profile,  the  turn  of  her  shoulder,  the  soft  full  mass  of 
hair  that  shaded  her  face  at  the  sides.  The  sight  was 
cheering.  Something  no  doubt  had  been  accomplished, 
towards  producing  the  effect  he  desired.  He  advanced, 
in  a  good  mood. 

"  Well,  mother !  "  he  said,  kissing  her.  Then  he 
turned  to  Astrid :  "  Well,  young  woman,  how  have 
you  been  getting  on  ?  Come  and  give  me  a  kiss !  " 

She  raised  her  eyes,  slowly  and  with  an  air  of 
abstraction,  from  the  book  she  held.  "  Good  evening, 
Oliver,"  she  said,  without  stirring.  Sybil  saw  him 
flush,  but  he  kept  his  composure.  "  Deep  in  your  book 
—  eh  ? "  he  said,  sauntering  up  to  where  she  sat.  She 
was  in  a  large  arm-chair,  which  she  only  half  filled. 
He  sat  down  upon  the  arm  of  it.  "  What  is  it  absorbs 
you  so  ?  "  he  asked,  Avith  an  evident  desire  to  be  friendly. 

She  cast  him  a  glance  of  contempt,  rose,  and  moved 
to  another  chair  at  some  distance.  "  I  am  reading  the 
Life  of  Whistler,"  she  told  him. 

Oliver  let  his  eye  rove  about  the  room,  glancing  at 
everything  except  his  mother's  face.  For  a  moment  she 
thought  he  was  going  to  resent  the  snub.  He  thought 
better  of  such  a  course,  however.  "  There's  a  very 
able  thing  about  Whistler's  Nocturnes  in  this  week's 
Art  Companion/'  he  said.  "  Would  you  like  to  see 
it?" 

"  Thanks,  I  don't  care  to.     I  wrote  it,"  she  answered. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      51 

He  turned  and  looked  steadily  at  her.  "  I  did  not 
know  you  wrote  for  the  Companion,"  he  said.  His 
tone  was  mingled  with  incredulity.  "  The  article  is  by 
some  one  who  does  one  every  week ;.  jolly  good  they  are 
too ;  somebody  who  calls  himself  Dogberry." 

"  Do  let  me  look,  Oliver.  Astrid  told  me  to-day 
that  she  wrote  every  week  for  the  Companion,"  said 
his  mother,  coming  to  the  rescue. 

He  went  out  of  the  room,  fetched  the  paper  and 
handed  it  to  her. 

"  Astrid,"  said  she,  "  you  are  just  what  I  have  been 
wanting  —  somebody  who  knows  her  way  about  among 
the  moderns.  She  took  me  to  the  National  Gallery  to- 
day," she  went  on,  addressing  Oliver.  "  What  she 
does  not  know  about  that  collection,  is  not  worth  know- 
ing, I  assure  you." 

There  was  a  ghost  of  a  smile  upon  the  girl's  pale 
face.  "  But  they  are  not  modern,"  she  said. 

"  We  had  better  go  to  the  Tate  to-morrow,"  laughed 
Sybil. 

"  Are  you  really  Dogberry  ?  "  asked  the  young  man 
of  his  wife. 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  was  her  answer.  She  added  no  more. 
Beyond  replying  to  direct  questions,  it  seemed  that 
she  declined  to  converse  with  him.  Sybil  began  to 
wonder  whether  she  should  have  courage  to  probe  into 
the  girl's  mind,  and  find  out  the  cause  for  her  inex- 
plicable attitude.  She  had  married  the  man;  he  him- 
self, who  was  certainly  truthful,  had  assured  his 
mother  that  he  had  not  deceived  her  with  protestations 
of  an  affection  he  could  not  feel  —  yet  she  treated  him 
as  though  he  had  done  her  some  unpardonable  injury. 

Deeply  as  Sybil,  on  her  son's  account,  resented  this, 
yet  she  found  herself  surmising  that  the  girl  must  have 


52      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

some  reason,  which  seemed  to  her  valid,  for  her  con- 
duct. Already  she  was  sensible  of  feeling  a  certain 
amount  of  respect  towards  this  nobody  from  nowhere. 
The  idea  of  winning  her  confidence,  though  difficult, 
did  not  this  evening,  as  it  had  yesterday,  suggest  itself 
as  impossible. 


CHAPTEE  VI 

Loth  to  stay,  yet  to  leave  her  slack, 

He  half  turned  away,  then  he  quite  turned  back:; 

For  courtesy's  sake  he  could  not  lack 

To  redeem  his  own  royal  pledge; 

Ahead  too,  the  windy  heaven  lowered  black 

With  a  fire-cloven  edge. —  CHRISTINA  ROSSETTI. 

DUBING  the  evening  Oliver  made  no  further  advance 
to  his  wife.  After  dinner  he  read  aloud  to  both  ladies, 
Astrid  meanwhile  busying  herself  over  winding  wool 
for  Sybil's  crochet.  When  they  went  up  to  bed  he  made 
no  effort  to  detain  them,  but  retired  to  his  study  to 
smoke. 

The  situation  was  so  odd  that  Sybil  lay  awake  half 
the  night  thinking  it  over.  Why  had  Astrid  married 
Oliver?  Having  married  him,  why  did  she  repudiate 
him  ?  How  could  she  acquiesce  in  the  present  arrange- 
ment of  things  ? 

The  next  few  days  brought  no  clue  to  such  remark- 
able behaviour.  The  two  ladies  continued  their 
shopping,  saw  a  great  many  pictures,  ordered  several 
gowns,  to  which  the  bride  demurred  as  unjustifiable 
extravagance,  and  by  the  end  of  the  week  found  them- 
selves in  the  position  of  being  fairly  good  companions, 
though  certainly  not  friends. 

Oliver  had  evidently  made  up  his  mind  not  to  ruffle 
the  surface  of  the  pool.  He  was  polite  now  to  his 
wife,  pointedly  including  her  in  the  conversation. 
Upon  subjects  which  interested  her  she  would  talk  a 


54      A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

little;  but  she  never  volunteered  a  remark  or  suggested 
a  topic.  With  a  skill  which  Sybil  half  admired  she 
avoided  being  alone  with  her  husband,  and  sheered 
away  from  any  personal  note  in  conversation. 

For  the  first  few  days,  until  her  clothes  were  ready 
and  she  had  found  her  footing  in  the  house,  her  mother- 
in-law  invited  no  guests.  But  they  were  sociable  peo- 
ple, and  well  liked,  so  that  there  was  no  doubt  that 
Sunday  afternoon  would  find  the  drawing-room  well 
filled  with  acquaintances,  come  to  look  at  Oliver's  wife. 

She  was  unremarkable  enough,  as  most  people  said 
after  seeing  her  in  church  at  morning  service.  But  as 
she  sat  that  afternoon,  in  a  rose-coloured  gown,  upon  a 
grey  couch,  with  a  background  of  flowering  trumpet 
daffodils,  there  seemed  at  least  no  reason  why  a  young 
man  should  not  have  been  attracted  by  her,  even  if 
there  was  no  such  positive  charm  as  to  make  one  feel 
that  he  could  not  have  helped  himself. 

Colonel  Waring  was  there,  and  Mona  Letts,  and  the 
Selbys. 

The  Selby  family  comprised  two  brothers,  one  of 
whom,  Martin,  was  on  the  stage,  the  other,  Dan,  a 
somewhat  erratic  author.  They  lived  with  a  sister 
who  suddenly,  at  the  age  of  thirty-five,  was  going  to 
be  married;  and  the  question  of  what  they  should  do 
without  her  was  debated  by  them  as  a  perennial  topic 
of  talk. 

Sybil,  anxious  to  see  how  Astrid  would  comport  her- 
self among  strangers,  introduced  her  to  Dan,  who  was 
big  and  burly,  with  fierce  blue  eyes  and  a  short,  fair 
beard.  He  was  easy  to  get  on  with,  she  reflected,  and 
she  made  the  introduction  with  the  side-note  that  her 
daughter-in-law  was  an  art  critic  and  journalist. 

"An  art  critic,"  said  Dan,  smiling  down  upon  the 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      55 

grave  girl.  "  I  am  glad  to  know  that  it  is  Art  that 
gets  the  knocks;  it  can  stand  'em.  I  could  see  you 
were  born  to  criticize  something,  and  I  was  afraid 
perhaps  it  was  men." 

There  was  something  infectiously  amusing  about 
the  way  this  was  said.  It  actually  drew  a  smile  from 
Astrid.  "  I  know  nothing  about  men,"  she  said.  "  I 
should  not  be  able  to  criticize." 

"  Pudge !  You  know  all  about  us.  I  see  it  in  your 
uncompromising  eye.  I  pity  Brendon.  He  must  feel 
like  Feverel  did,  when  the  lady  who  adored  his  epi- 
grams came  to  stay  in  the  house  and  expected  them 
from  breakfast  onwards." 

"  I  hate  epigrams,"  said  Astrid. 

"  What  do  you  like,  now  ? "  asked  Dan  confiden- 
tially, leaning  forward  and  looking  round  at  her. 

"  Pictures,"  she  replied.  He  looked  pleased.  What 
kind?  he  wished  to  know.  Soon  they  were  talking 
with  interest.  He  was  hearing  that  she  had  never  been 
abroad,  nor  seen  any  pictures  but  such  as  Dublin  and 
London  could  furnish.  He  made  several  remarks,  with 
a  view  to  ascertaining  whether  she  really  knew  what 
she  was  talking  about,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
she  did.  From  pictures  they  rambled  on  to  his  books, 
and  the  comedy  he  was  writing.  "  We  are  all  writing 
comedies,  you  know,"  he  said ;  "  there  is  not  a  novelist 
in  London  who  isn't.  That's  why  there  is  not  a  play 
to  be  had  for  love  or  money.  Novelists  don't  turn  into 
playwrights,  any  more  than  single  men  in  barracks  turn 
into  plaster  saints ;  for  the  obvious  reason  that  the  nov- 
elist is  free,  but  the  playwright  is  limited  by  the  stage. 
I  may  change  my  venue  from  Timbuctoo  to  Boston  and 
back  again,  and  describe  a  railway  journey  every  mile 
of  which  is  vital  to  the  development  of  my  story.  But 


56      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

in  a  play  it  won't  do.  It  all  has  to  take  place  in  some- 
body's chambers,  and  all  the  women  of  the  play  have 
to  be  got  there  somehow,  and  the  method  mostly  adopted 
is  to  take  away  their  characters,  because  then  you  can 
put  them  where  you  like.  It  gets  monotonous." 

"  Yet  you  are  trying  to  write  one  ?  " 

"Yes,  of  course.  One  is  always  trying  to  do  what 
one  had  better  not.  What  I  am  trying  to  do  is  to  be 
original.  I  want  to  persuade  the  British  public  that 
there  may  be  an  interesting  plot  which  turns  on  some 
other  subject  than  the  unfaithfulness  of  a  husband  or 
wife.  But  my  actor  brother  tells  me  I  am  a  Utopian 
idiot." 

"  The  convention  is  very  firmly  fixed  in  the  public 
mind,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Astrid.  "  You  see,  review- 
ers will  not  praise  anything  else.  If  you  write  a  book 
about  people  whose  sense  of  honour  is  stronger  than 
their  passions,  they  call  it  untrue  to  life." 

"  I  wonder  what  the  average  reviewer  knows  about 
life !  "  cried  Dan  loudly.  Oliver  caught  the  remark. 

"  Hullo,  Dan,"  he  said  smoothly,  "  go  easy.  I'm  a 
reviewer." 

"  Just  so,"  said  Dan,  "  which  proves  the  truth  of 
what  I  say.  You  know  nothing  about  life  or  any- 
thing else,  except  the  stuff  they  crammed  you  with 
at  Oxford." 

"  I  shall  have  to  turn  Bohemian,  Dan,  and  go  out 
with  you  in  that  caravan  of  yours." 

"  Do,"  said  Dan  eagerly.  "  Let's  have  a  tour  this 
summer !  Your  wife,  here,  seems  to  me  to  know  every- 
thing, but  perhaps  even  she  has  never  tried  caravanning 
—  and  you  and  me  and  Tessa.  It  may  be  the  last  time 
that  Tessa  ever  takes  the  road !  I  am  sure  Humphrey 
Spence  won't  allow  it  after  marriage.  !Nbw,  Mrs. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE      57 

Brendon,  do  tell  jour  husband  that  you  must  and  will 
go  caravanning  with  me !  " 

Tessa  Selby  struck  in  and  saved  Astrid  from  the 
necessity  of  reply.  "  All  right,  old  man,"  she  said  to 
her  brother.  "  We  will.  We  will  spend  the  month  of 
June  in  the  van,  and  Humphrey  can  come  down  for 
week-ends." 

Astrid  looked  from  the  brother  to  the  sister,  amused. 
Tessa  was  a  plain  woman,  with  a  slim,  erect  figure 
and  a  pleasant  face.  They  seemed  the  kind  of  folks 
one  might  make  friends  with.  A  look  of  response, 
almost  of  eagerness,  crept  into  the  bride's  eyes.  "  I 
think  caravanning  must  be  very  good  fun,"  she  said. 

"  It  is,  when  you  cook  as  I  can,"  replied  Dan,  with 
enormous  complacency.  "  But  Brendon  will  have  to 
shed  all  his  lar-di-da  tricks  if  he  comes  on  board.  No 
superior  persons  allowed  to  travel  with  the  Sarah 
Jane." 

Under  the  stimulus  of  the  Selbys.Mrs.  Oliver's  col- 
our rose,  and  those  expressions  flitted  across  her  face 
which  her  mother-in-law  had  thought  would  improve 
her  sad  features.  There  was  no  doubt  of  her  being, 
in  a  quiet  way,  attractive  when  she  smiled.  She  would 
be  more  attractive  when  she  filled  out  a  little,  and  grew 
more  sure  of  herself.  Mona  Letts  watched  her  wist- 
fully. Her  opinion  of  the  bride  was  not  high,  since  she 
knew  the  shock  which  the  news  had  been  to  her  adored 
Mrs.  Brendon.  She  had,  however,  come  prepared 
to  see  some  one  impossible;  and  Astrid  was  certainly 
not  that.  Mona  asked  for  an  introduction  pres- 
ently, and  sat  down,  prepared  to  be  friendly  and  pat- 
ronising; but  she  obtained  only  monosyllables.  The 
light  all  died  down  and  the  expression  became  dull  when 
Astrid  talked  to  an  unsympathetic  person;  and  Dan 


58      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

Selby  pretty  soon  elbowed  his  robust  way  back  to  the 
couch,  and  ousted  Miss  Letts  with  total  unconscious- 
ness that  he  was  so  doing.  His  brother  Martin  now 
came  up  and  pressed  for  an  introduction.  "  I  must 
have  a  word  with  you,  Mrs.  Oliver,  just  to  tell  you 
what  an  old  ass  my  brother  is/'  he  explained.  "  What- 
ever you  do,  don't  listen  to  the  tosh  he  will  reel  you 
off  about  the  drama.  He  is  as  frightened  of  a  good 
strong  situation  as  a  teetotaller  is  of  whisky.  He 
wants  to  get  the  public  to  drink  lemonade,  and  wonders 
the  managers  are  not  running  after  him  in  flocks,  clam- 
ouring for  his  work.  I  am  trying,  just  now,  to  put 
a  little  backbone  into  the  play  he  is  wrestling  with  — 
but  he  won't  allow  it." 

"  Yes  —  an  adventuress,  with  red  hair,  tea-gown,  and 
diamonds  —  all  the  dear  old  outfit,"  said  Dan,  with 
scorn.  "  I  tell  you  they  all  know  that  adventuress 
from  her  cradle  to  her  grave,  every  crime  she  has  up 
her  sleeve,  and  the  very  words  with  which  she  will 
taunt  her  victim!  She  only  exists  so  that  actresses 
who  can't  express  any  legitimate  emotion  may  have 
what  they  call  a  strong  part.  I  don't  like  strong  parts, 
any  more  than  I  liked  that  strong  haunch  of  venison 
we  buried  in  the  garden  last  week,  Martin." 

"  Oh,  go  along ;  I  can't  think  how  you  came  to  be 
born  masculine;  you  were  cast  by  nature  for  the  part 
of  the  maiden  aunt,"  said  his  brother. 

Dan's  blue  eyes  kindled.  "Yes,"  he  observed 
thoughtfully,  "  that  is  one  of  my  pet  ideas.  Every 
truly  great  man  has  all  the  modesty,  all  the  tenderness 
of  the  woman  in  him.  The  true  man  is  man  and 
woman  too  —  if  one  could  teach  that,  what  becomes 
of  the  sex  problem  ?  " 

"  If  you  get  rid  of  the  sex  problem,  what  becomes 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      59 

of  novelists  and  playwrights  ?  "  mocked  Martin  play- 
fully. 

When  they  were  all  gone,  Sybil  felt  as  if  she  had 
undergone  an  operation.  The  worst  was  over,  and 
had  not  been  so  bad  as  she  had  expected.  Whatever 
else  one  might  say  or  think  of  her,  her  daughter-in- 
law  was  not  socially  impossible.  The  Selbys,  on  de- 
parture, had  expressed  themselves  warmly  about  her. 
Mona  Letts's  pitying  little  hand-pressure  and  glance 
did  not  worry  her;  for  Mona  was  not  likely  to  judge 
Astrid  justly.  Colonel  Waring  had  said  simply, 
"  That  is  a  woman  with  a  good  deal  of  character.  I 
wouldn't  go  bail  for  the  sweetness  of  her  temper, 
though." 

Sybil  looked  appealing  into  the  eyes  of  her  constant 
friend. 

"  You  don't  find  her  outrageous,  do  you  ?  She  would 
pass  muster  ? " 

"  Decidedly.  She  is  all  right ;  you  needn't  worry 
yourself  to  fiddle-strings.  Why  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't.     Why  do  you  accuse  me  of  such  a  thing  ?  " 

"  The  girl  looks  so  tragic,  I  feel  sure  you  have  been 
worrying  her,  if  not  yourself." 

"  Indeed  I  have  not.  I  get  on  well  with  her,  much 
better  than  Oliver  does  —  ah,  I  didn't  mean  to  say 
that;  it  escaped.  Good-bye.  Come  and  dine  next 
Thursday;  we  will  have  one  or  two  to  meet  you." 

When  he  had  walked  off,  down  the  drive,  she  sighed 
and  went  back  to  the  drawing-room.  Astrid  was  there' 
alone.  Oliver  had  withdrawn. 

"Well,  you  liked  the  Selbys,  I  think?"  she  asked 
cheerfully. 

Astrid  responded  quite  warmly.  "Yes,  I  did. 
They  are  people  I  feel  I  could  get  on  with." 


60     A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"  Why  not  carry  out  this  idea  of  a  caravan  party  ? 
Should  you  enjoy  it  ?  " 

Astrid  was  gazing  into  the  fire,  her  hands  round  her 
knees. 

"  In  a  month's  time  I  shall  not  be  here,"  she  said 
quietly. 

Her  mother-in-law  did  not  reply  for  a  moment.  The 
desire  to  demand  an  explanation  of  this  unnatural  at- 
titude of  mind  rose  with  force  in  her.  She  checked 
it,  however.  She  was  on  the  way  to  obtain  the  girl's 
confidence,  she  hoped;  she  had  not,  however,  reached 
the  point  at  which  it  seemed  that  she  dared  ask  for  it. 
She  took  another  method.  Laying  her  hand  upon  the 
hair,  she  turned  back  the  pale  face  and  smiled  into  the 
eyes.  "  Are  you  so  sure  of  that  ?  "  she  asked  playfully. 

The  girl's  mouth  quivered.  Her  eyes  looked  into 
the  sweet  ones  bent  above  her,  with  a  sudden  fire  of 
longing  to  speak  out;  but  a  will  stronger  than  her 
emotion  held  her  back.  "  I  have  promised  to  stay  a 
month,"  she  said  hurriedly,  twisting  her  head  away 
from  the  pressure  of  the  too-compelling  hand. 


CHAPTER  VII 

I  do  hold  that  the  merest  gentleman 
Will  not  start  rudely  from  the  stalking-horse, 
Dismiss  it,  with  a  "  There,  enough  of  you !  " 
Forget  it,  show  his  back  unmannerly  .  .  . 

.  .  .  She  served  not  ill. 
And,  though  I  shall  forget  her  in  due  time, 
Her  use  being  answered  now  .  .  . 
Still,  she  has  rights. —  R.  BEOWNING. 

MAY  was  cold  and  gusty,  but  with  interludes  of  fickle 
brilliancy.  One  afternoon,  a  fortnight  after  her  first 
arrival,  Mrs.  Oliver  Brendon  left  the  Abbot's  House 
and  walked  along  the  Ridge,  to  call  upon  the  Selbys. 

The  sun  was  shining  vigorously  as  she  started,  as 
though  eager,  when  the  clouds  gave  him  half  a  chance, 
to  show  what  he  could  do.  The  tossing  wind  was  full 
of  exhilaration.  It  brought  a  tinge  of  colour  to  As- 
trid's  cheeks,  and  loosened  her  hair  becomingly.  A 
fortnight  of  rest  and  country  air  and  liberal  diet  had 
had  their  due  effect.  She  was  just  a  shade  softer, 
rounder,  and  more  girlish  than  she  had  been.  She  was 
very  young,  and  the  hope  of  happiness  dies  hard  in  the 
young.  In  spite  of  her  uncompromising  position,  in 
spite  of  the  nightmare  memory  which  lay  behind  her, 
she  was  beginning  to  nurse  a  little  secret  fancy  that  she 
might  have  been  mistaken;  to  believe  that  there  was 
just  a  chance  that  her  husband's  attitude  might  have 
been  the  result  of  his  knowing  nothing  of  girls,  their 
feelings  nor  their  easily  bruised  emotions. 

She  had  married  him  who  was  to  her  the  one  man 
61 


62      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

the  world  held.  She  had  anticipated  that  "  the  giving 
and  receiving  of  a  ring"  would  be  the  gate  of  the 
Elysian  fields.  She  had  found  dust  and  ashes ;  and  the 
unreasonableness,  the  apparent  aimlessness  of  the  suf- 
fering she  had  been  called  upon  to  endure  had  stunned 
her. 

During  this  fortnight  of  waiting  and  healing  she 
was  learning,  with  all  the  speed  of  an  agile  mind. 
It  had  been  borne  in  upon  her  that  her  ignorance  of 
the  world  and  of  men  was  phenomenal,  surprising. 
Everything  was  beginning  to  look  so  different,  that 
the  necessity  of  overhauling  and  examining  all  previ- 
ous convictions  came  urgently  to  her.  After  six  years 
of  loneliness,  after  a  fortnight's  delirium  of  anticipa- 
tion, during  which  she  floated  on  clouds  and  lived  in  a 
dream,  after  the  awfulness  of  being  flung  back  upon 
herself  in  shivering  desolation  —  the  temptation  to  cast 
away  all  reserve  and  make  a  confidante  of  Oliver's 
mother  was  increasingly  strong. 

She  was  his  mother,  she  might  understand  him;  she 
might,  as  it  were,  translate  him  to  his  wife.  Yet  the 
way  in  which  he  had  acted  towards  this  ideal  mother 
—  the  extraordinary  manner  of  his  marriage  —  made 
the  puzzle  all  the  deeper  and  more  obscure. 

Since  their  arrival  at  Thackridge  he  had  acquiesced, 
without  argument,  in  his  wife's  repudiation  of  him. 
Yet  he  was  kind;  as  the  days  went  by  he  seemed  a 
shade  kinder.  He  spoke  to  her  with  respect,  he  showed 
a  deferential  consideration.  The  undying  hope  would 
beat  against  the  bars  of  the  girl's  will  urging  her  to 
tender  some  kind  of  olive  branch,  to  make  an  attempt  to 
discover  the  soul  of  the  man  who  was  her  husband. 

But  he  had  suggested  a  month's  truce.  A  month's 
truce,  then,  they  would  have.  At  the  end  of  that  time 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      63 

she  would  know,  she  would  confront  him,  and  say  out 
boldly  to  him,  "  You  married  me,  although  you  do  not 
love  me  at  all,  although  you  have  no  spark  of  affection 
for  me.  Why  did  you  do  this  ? " 

Meanwhile  circumstances  forced  upon  her  a  position 
which  she  resented  because,  had  she  felt  justly  entitled 
to  it,  it  would  have  been  so  pleasant  to  her.  She  liked 
Mrs.  Brendon,  she  liked  the  house  and  the  pretty  vil- 
lage; and  she  liked  the  Selbys.  It  was  hard  to  resist 
the  gentle  urgency  with  which  the  pleasant  details  of 
life  were  knocking  at  her  door.  The  wild  wind  of 
spring,  the  sunshine-gleams,  the  opening  leaves  and 
flower-buds,,  all  conspired  to  call  aloud  in  her  girl's 
heart,  to  sing  the  praises  of  what  is  normal  and  healthy 
and  fitting  to  youth  and  May. 

The  Selbys  were  by  no  means  rich,  and  they  lived 
in  a  small  house,  far  along  the  Ridge,  with  a  large, 
somewhat  untidy,  though  remarkably  productive  gar- 
den. Gardening  was  among  Dan's  hobbies,  and  hith- 
erto he  had  had  the  capable  assistance  of  Tessa,  who 
had  been  through  the  Swanley  College  course,  and  was 
extraordinarily  successful  with  her  herbaceous  borders. 

That  afternoon,  the  wallflowers,  particularly  the  new 
purple  variety,  made  a  velvet  glow  of  colour  all  along 
under  the  sunny  wall,  flanked  by  forget-me-not  and 
clumps  of  fragrant  woodruff. 

Dan  and  Tessa  were  eagerly  awaiting  the  arrival  of 
"  Mrs.  Oliver,"  to  whom  the  big  man  had  taken  a  sud- 
den and  ardent  liking.  He  was  a  sociable  being,  pop- 
ular among  all  the  girls  in  Thackridge,  but  had  never 
been  known  to  take  a  special  fancy  to  anybody.  As  to 
Astrid,  she  seemed  to  say  very  little  when  they  were  to- 
gether, leaving  all  the  talking  to  him;  but  he  had 
formed  a  high  opinion  of  her  intellect,  and  Martin  and 


64     A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 


Tessa  had  taken  to  teasing  him  mildly  about  his 
"  swan." 

He  quite  declined  to  see  anything  curious  in  young 
Brendon's  sudden  marriage. 

"  Take  my  word  for  it,"  he  declared,  "  there  is  many 
a  man's  heart  caught  in  the  rebound,  and  held  firmly 
too.  Look  at  the  immortal  example  —  the  Romeo  and 
Juliet  love  affair.  Romeo  had  been  in  love  with  the 
grave  and  lofty  Rosaline.  He  turned  to  the  little  girl- 
ish Juliet  and  found  his  true  mate  there.  Brendon  has 
done  the  opposite  and  far  more  sensible  thing.  He 
turned  from  the  fluffy  little  fool  to  the  deep-souled  crea- 
ture who  had  sat  under  his  nose  unrecognised  for  two 
or  three  years  in  his  office.  For  the  first  time  he  looked 
at  her  with  eyes  that  had  been  opened  to  love  —  whether 
for  her  or  another  woman  in  the  first  instance  does  not 
particularly  matter  —  and  saw  that  she  was  good! 
There  you  have  it.  He  is  much  to  be  envied." 

"What  a  pity  you  did  not  meet  her  first,  Dan," 
observed  Tessa,  pulling  off  her  gardening  gloves  and 
surveying  the  long  border  with  a  loving  eye. 

"  I,"  said  Da.n,  with  half  a  sigh,  "  am  the  man  who 
chronicles  love  affairs,  not  the  man  who  has  'em.  You 
know  what  Norbert  remarked: 

'  We  live,  and  they  experiment  on  life, 
Those  poets,  painters,  all  who  stand  aloof 
To  overlook  the  farther.     Let  us  be 
The  thing  they  look  at! ' 

That's  it,  Tessa.  I  am  the  experimenter  on  life.  I 
look  on,  and  the  lovers  are." 

"  I  suppose  we  are,"  said  Tessa  calmly,  "  or  I  should 
never  have  got  engaged  to  Humphrey." 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      65 

"Aptly  urged!  That  you,  nurtured  by  two  such 
men  as  Martin  and  myself,  should  pledge  your  future 
to  a  young  person  who  superintends  the  manufacture 
of  motor-cars,  and  thinks  in  petrol  and  carburettors! 
One  who  likes  good  solid  meals,  served  upon  his  own 
mahogany,  and  sees  no  beauty  in  a  crust  beneath  the 
hedge!  Now  I  believe  Mrs.  Oliver  would  really  and 
spontaneously  enjoy  the  hedge-pot !  " 

"  I  believe  she  would !  I  mean  to  try  and  arrange 
that  trip,"  replied  Tessa.  "  I  want  to  be  off  on  the 
loose  just  for  once  more  before  Humphrey  becomes  my 
most  important  interest!  Besides,  I  always  think 
Oliver  a  bit  of  a  prig  —  editors  of  high-class  weeklies 
can  hardly  escape  it  —  and  nothing  brings  a  man  down 
so  completely  to  his  own  level  as  a  caravan." 

"Nothing,"  chuckled  Dan,  waggling  his  big  hands 
in  the  pockets  of  his  unspeakable  coat.  "  She  would 
be  a  brilliant  success  and  he  would  have  to  look  up 
to  her,  and  it  would  be  enormously  good  for  him! 
Ah,  here  she  comes !  "  he  went  on,  with  satisfaction,  as 
the  girlish  figure  appeared,  moving  down  the  path  with 
something  of  a  youthful  swing.  "  Hullo,  Mrs.  Oliver. 
Come  and  sniff  this  border!  How's  that  for  perfume, 
eh  ?  Make  the  most  of  it,  for  the  sun  is  going  in  per- 
manently in  about  half  an  hour,  and  we  are  going  to 
have  a  stormy  night !  " 

Astrid's  eyes  lit  up  with  pleasure  at  the  friendly  greet- 
ing. 

"You  are  wonderful  people,"  she  said.  'Mrs. 
Brendon's  wallflowers  are  only  in  bud,  and  she  has  a 
very  good  gardener." 

"  Her  garden's  not  so  sunny  as  ours,"  returned  Tessa, 
when  she  had  warmly  saluted  the  girl.  "  Dan,  do 


66     A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

let's  have  tea  out  of  doors!  If  I  run  and  shout  for 
it,  we  can  just  do  it  before  the  sun  goes  in,  and  there 
is  not  a  breath  of  wind  in  the  Haven." 

"  O  do ! "  echoed  Astrid  eagerly ;  and  Tessa  ran 
off  to  give  the  order,  leaving  Dan  strolling  at  Mrs. 
Oliver's  side  between  the  fragrant  borders. 

"  I  have  brought  back  your  book,"  said  Astrid,  "  and 
I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  it  I  feel  that  it  would 
be  merely  conventional  to  say  I  like  it;  I  much  more 
than  like  it.  I  feel  towards  it  as  I  feel  about  you  — 
as  if  I  had  made  a  new  friend." 

"  I  say,"  said  Dan,  "  that's  jolly  good !  " 

"  I  should  like,"  went  on  the  girl  quite  calmly,  "  to 
be  your  secretary." 

Dan  laughed,  with  a  wistful  glance.  "  Ah,"  he  said, 
"  that  is  one  of  the  things  we  say  when  we  know  there 
is  no  chance  of  being  called  upon  to  translate  the  wish 
into  action." 

"  Well,"  said  Astrid,  "  of  course,  I  knew  when  I 
said  it  that  there  was  no  likelihood  of  your  wanting 
me.  But  I  meant  it  seriously  from  my  own  point  of 
view.  You  know  I  am  accustomed  to  work,  and  I 
don't  like  being  idle.  I  could  not  well  work  now  in 
Oliver's  office,  as  I  used  to  do;  but  I  think  I  shall 
work  somewhere." 

"  Why,"  said  Dan,  half  disappointed,  "  you  are  a 
modern  wife ! " 

"  Am  I  ?  Why  do  you  say  so  ?  Because  I  do  not 
like  to  be  idle?" 

"  When  you  have  a  house  of  your  own,  my  dear,  you 
will  not  find  much  margin  of  time  to  do  other  people's 
typewriting." 

There  was  a  pause.  "  Perhaps  not,"  said  she,  after 
a  while. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      67 

"  I  am  making  myself  pretty  miserable  about  my 
work,"  he  went  on,  talking  to  her  quite  without  any 
sense  of  shyness  as  they  strolled  the  garden  walks. 
"  You  see,  I  have  accustomed  myself  to  the  use  of  a 
secretary,  having  Tessa.  She  is  first-rate.  But  when 
she  is  married,  I  can't  think  what  will  become  of  me, 
because  I  don't  believe  I  could  grow  accustomed  to  any 
stranger.  It  will  mean  complete  dislocation  of  my 
work  for  a  time  at  least.  But  mind,"  he  added  hur- 
riedly, "you  must  not  say  this  to  Tessa — not  on  any 
account." 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  with  a  smile  of  reassurance. 
"  Of  course  not.  She  is  so  unselfish,  and  she  must  be 
feeling  it  enough  as  it  is.  I  am  quite  anxious  to  see 
Mr.  Spence.  I  do  hope  he  will  make  her  happy." 

"  There's  very  little  doubt  of  it.  He  is  marrying 
her  in  spite  of  himself.  She  is,  in  many  respects, 
exactly  what  he  previously  thought  he  did  not  want, 
but  he  is  so  in  love  with  her  that  nothing  matters. 
Every  week  I  like  him  better,  and  every  week  they 
grow  nearer  to  each  other.  As  far  as  she  is  concerned, 
Martin  and  I  are  both  content.  It  is  only  our  blamed 
selfishness " 

"  O  I  don't  wonder.  She  is  just  sweet.  There  is 
a  kind  of  fragrance  about  her,  of  graciousness  and  nat- 
uralness, which  one  feels  at  once.  The  charm  of  sheer 
personality!  I  do  feel  sorry  for  you,  and  I  quite 
understand  how  detestable  the  idea  of  anybody  else  to 
work  for  you  must  be,  after  having  had  her." 

"  Well  —  not  the  idea  of  anybody  ...  I  mean,  not 
the  idea  you  dangled  before  my  eyes  so  brutally  just 
now!  I  could  work  with  you  right  enough!  I  don't 
mind  betting  that  in  a  week  I  should  feel  as  comfort- 
able with  you  as  if  I  had  known  you  all  my  life !  " 


68      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

She  laughed  with  sheer  pleasure,  and  the  colour  came 
up  vividly  in  her  cheeks.  "  That  is  a  compliment ! 
Thank  you,  sir,  very  much,  for  my  good  compliment! 
But  as  you  say,  I  might  not  have  time " 

"Aha!  Didn't  I  say  so?  When  it  comes  to  the 
point ! " 

"  Who  can  say  2  "  said  Astrid  hurriedly.  "  I  don't 
know  a  hit  what  our  plans  are  yet  Anyway,  Miss 
Selby  is  not  going  to  be  married  until  August,  is  she  ?  " 

"  If  o,  thank  Heaven !  And  our  caravan  tour  comes 
first !  Come  and  look  at  our  two  peripatetic  homes !  " 

He  guided  her  through  devious  ways,  out  into  the 
field,  where,  covered  carefully  in  tarpaulins,  the  two 
caravans  stood.  One  was  green  and  one  was  blue. 
The  ladies'  caravan  was  the  larger  and  more  commo- 
dious. Dan  unlocked  the  door  and  let  down  the  steps, 
and  Astrid  climbed  up  with  him  and  examined  the  va- 
rious contrivances,  the  neat  way  in  which  beds  and 
tables  let  down  from  the  walls,  and  seats  had  drawers 
and  lockers  underneath  them.  Bedding  and  all  furni- 
ture was,  of  course,  removed,  and  stowed  in  the  house 
for  the  winter.  They  had  taken  their  holiday  in  this 
manner  every  year  for  the  past  five  years,  and  were 
not  tired  of  it  yet.  This  year  they  were  going  to  make 
a  variation,  since  they  were  beginning  to  tire  of  the 
first  fifty  miles  out.  They  were  planning  to  send  a 
man  with  the  vans  to  await  them  at  a  given  starting- 
point,  so  as  to  find  themselves,  from  the  very  first,  in 
the  heart  of  the  country. 

The  notion  was  to  the  girl  an  absorbing  one.  They 
sat  upon  a  locker,  discussing  the  humours  of  the  road 
in  total  forgetfulness  of  all  else,  their  eyes  upon  the 
corner  of  the  green  meadow,  and  the  sunlight  flickering 
through  the  young  foliage  of  the  trees;  until  Tessa's 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      69 

voice  in  urgent  summons  caused  them  to  jump  up,  hur- 
riedly put  thing  to  rights,  and  return  precipitately  to 
the  Haven,  a  sort  of  summer-house  where  tea  was  await- 
ing them. 

After  tea  Dan's  weather  prophecy  began  to  be  ful- 
filled. They  went  indoors,  to  fulfil  the  true  purpose  of 
Mrs.  Oliver's  visit  —  an  inspection  of  a  small  but  val- 
uable collection  of  miniatures  which  was  the  most  treas- 
ured possession  of  the  Selbys. 

It  was  Astrid's  purpose  to  make  her  weekly  column 
out  of  these  miniatures,  so  the  examination  could  not 
be  hurried,  though  she  and  Dan  had  wasted  time  so 
culpably  in  the  garden.  She  had  to  rush  home  in  or- 
der to  write  and  post  her  article  before  dinner,  so 
there  was  small  time  for  leave-taking ;  for  the  exquisite 
portraits  were  so  fascinating  that  it  was  hard  to  tear 
oneself  away.  When  at  last  she  did,  the  rain  had  be- 
gun, and  Dan  accompanied  her  all  the  way  home,  talk- 
ing to  his  heart's  content,  and  more  than  ever  impressed 
with  the  talent  and  charm  of  Brendon's  wife. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Passion  sometimes  would  prevail, 

Nor  could  to-night's  gay  feast  restrain 

A  sudden  thought  of  one  so  pale 

For  love  of  her,  and  all  in  vain; 

So,  she  was  come  through  wind  and  rain. 

R.  BBOWNINQ. 

HAVING  once  begun,  the  rain  continued,  and  the 
evening  drew  in  chilly  and  wet,  a  typical  English  May. 
Astrid  wrote  her  article  at  a  great  pace,  hardly  pausing 
to  know  whether  it  was  good,  but  with  an  inner  per- 
suasion of  its  being  "  all  right,"  and  went  out,  sheathed 
in  a  cloak  and  protected  by  a  big  umbrella,  to  carry  it 
to  post,  at  a  moment  when  she  should  have  been  dressing 
for  dinner.  As  she  turned  away  from  the  post  office 
she  met  her  husband  face  to  face. 

"  O,"  cried  she  impulsively,  "  you  have  no  um- 
brella!" 

Oliver,  who  had  been  trudging  along  unrecognising, 
halted,  and  stared  at  her  half  blinded  by  the  rain, 
which  was  coming  down  very  fast.  Humanity  urged 
the  girl  to  suggest  that  they  should  share  the  um- 
brella. He  took  it  from  her,  and  held  it  over  the  two 
of  them  while  they  proceeded  the  short  distance  which 
separates  the  Abbot's  House  from  the  post. 

"  You  are  out  late,"  was  his  trite  remark.  His  voice 
was  not  trite,  however.  It  had  a  cadence  of  excite- 
ment which  struck  her. 

70 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     71 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  I  had  to  post  my  article.  I 
went  down  to  the  Selbys',  to  look  at  their  miniatures, 
and  we  got  talking  and  I  stayed  too  late." 

She  tried  hard  to  make  her  voice  sound  natural, 
but  she  was  all  kindled  by  a  sudden  hope.  Was  there 
not  something  unusual,  some  feeling  suppressed,  be- 
hind his  slightly  confused  manner  ? 

"  They've  got  some  nice  things." 

"O  yes,  delightful.  The  Isabeys  in  particular.  I 
had  never  seen  really  good  examples  of  him  before. 
The  lady  in  the  brocade " 

"  Mind  the  puddle,"  said  Oliver,  drawing  her  a  lit- 
tle to  one  side.  "  Yes  —  you  were  saying  —  ah,  yes, 
Isabey.  They  must  be  worth  a  good  deal,  that  little 
collection." 

He  was  talking  because  he  must  say  something.  He 
wanted  to  be  friendly  and  conversational.  All  his 
mind  meanwhile  was  filled  with  the  consciousness  of 
one  thing  only  —  the  fact  that  when  he  alighted  at  the 
station  that  evening  one  of  the  Park  grooms  was  busily 
piling  foreign  registered  luggage  upon  the  cart.  Lady 
Faulkner  and  Vivien  had  returned.  They  were  at  that 
moment  in  Thackridge.  The  idea  was  suffocating  him. 

The  girl  whose  hand  rested  on  his  arm  knew  full  well 
that  some  absorbing  thought  was  filling  him  to  the 
exclusion  of  everything  else.  She  dared  not  seem  to 
be  aware  of  it,  however.  She  had  no  claim  upon  his 
confidence,  but  she  was  aching  to  receive  it. 

He  let  her  in  with  his  latch-key,  and  she  ran  upstairs, 
filled  with  a  sense  of  the  unbearable  nature  of  the  pres- 
ent situation,  and  a  wild  desire  that  the  strain  might 
soon  be  over. 

He  stood  in  the  hall,  slowly  removing  his  overcoat, 
.his  eyes  fixed  unseeing  upon  nowhere,  his  whole  being 


72     A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

engaged  in  conjecturing  as  to  where  Vivien  was  at  the 
moment,  and  what  she  was  doing. 

His  blank  stare  was  fixed  upon  the  drawing-room 
door,  and  as  he  gazed  it  half  opened,  slowly  and  cau- 
tiously. He  stood  like  a  man  frozen  to  the  ground.  In 
the  aperture  appeared  a  golden,  fluffy  head,  and  a  white 
gown,  of  the  unusual  make  affected  by  the  girl  he  loved 
and  by  nobody  else. 

They  stood  confronting  each  other  for  two  long  sec- 
onds —  at  first  the  shock,  he  thought  her  an  illusion, 
conjured  up  by  his  intensity  of  longing.  In  another 
moment,  the  reality  of  her  broke  upon  him.  She  was 
there  —  there  —  in  person !  ...  It  was  the  beginning 
of  his  revenge. 

Calm  and  cool  as  ever  in  his  life  —  so  he  told  him- 
self —  he  hung  up  his  coat,  took  out  his  handkerchief, 
and  with  an  easy  — 

"  Why,  Miss  Faulkner !  " —  walked  into  the  drawing- 
room,  and  closed  the  door. 

She  was  alone.  Her  hat  and  long  coat  lay  upon 
a  chair,  as  in  the  sweet  old  days  she  used  to  fling  them, 
careless  of  where  they  fell. 

"  O,  you  horrid !  "  she  said,  pouting.  "  You  sim- 
ply detestable!  Miss  Faulkner  indeed!  .  .  .  and  the 
tips  of  your  fingers !  .  .  .  Ollie,  are  you  really,  truly, 
not  pleased  to  see  me  ? " 

"  Astonishment  deprives  me  of  the  power  of  express- 
ing any  other  emotion,  just  for  the  moment,"  he  said 
with  frigid  courtesy.  "  It  is  putting  it  mildly  to  say 
that  I  did  not  expect  you." 

She  laughed  joyously.  She  was  standing  beside  the 
hearth,  the  slimness  of  her  outline  against  the  rosy, 
glowing  light  —  standing  there  as  if  the  intermediate 
nightmare  months  had  never  been,  and  she  had  come 


A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE     73 

back  to  him  as  she  went.  "  Of  course  you  did  not  ex- 
pect me.  I  reckoned  on  that!  I  thought  to  myself, 
'  I  will  run  away  the  moment  I  get  home,  and  take  him 
by  surprise,  before  he  has  time  to  remember  that  he  is 
angry  with  me ! '  .  .  .  But  you  do  seem  to  remember 
it,  without  difficulty." 

She  turned  away  her  face,  and  hunched  one  shoul- 
der a  little.  He  could  see  the  distracting  arrangement 
of  the  ribbon  that  was  twisted  in  her  hair. 

"  Permit  me  to  tell  you  how  much  you  are  mistaken, 
Miss  Faulkner.  What  right  have  I  to  be  angry  with 
you  ?  I  could  not  so  presume." 

He  had  now  approached  as  near  as  he  dared  come. 
He  was  so  tossed  to  and  fro  by  the  agitation  of  his 
thoughts  that  he  hardly  knew  what  he  said  or  did; 
only  the  dominant  note,  of  his  polite  indifference,  re- 
hearsed so  often  —  whenever  he  thought  of  his  meet- 
ing with  her  —  stood  him  in  good  stead,  and  was  re- 
produced almost  mechanically.  He  had  pictured  many 
fashions  of  their  first  encounter:  he  had  never  pictured 
this.  That  she  should  come  straight  over  to  the  Ab- 
bot's House,  on  the  very  evening  of  her  return  home  — 

"  O,  you  are  in  a  rage !  Worse  than  I  expected ! 
I  believe  that  I  am  frightened  of  you ! "  said  Vivien 
defiantly.  "  However,  you  can't  prevent  my  staying 
to  dinner,  can  you?  I  know  Mrs.  Brendon  will  let 
me!  She  is  lying  down,  and  I  told  Drew  not  to  dis- 
turb her,  so  she  does  not  know  that  I  am  here !  How 
surprised  she  will  be!  —  And  we  will  dine  together  — 
and  by  the  end  of  dinner,  let  us  hope  you  will  be  kinder 
to  me " 

He  broke  in,  because  this  was  more  than  he  could 
stand. 

"  I  trust  Mr.  Railton  is  well  ? " 


74      A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

She  turned  fully  towards  him,  her  clasped  hands 
held  loosely  before  her.  "  Ollie,"  said  she  seriously, 
"  you  have  no  idea  at  all  of  lots  of  things !  First, 
you  know  nothing  about  girls,  nor  how  many  layers 
there  are  in  their  souls " 

"  How  many  what  ?  " 

"Layers!  Layers  of  feeling,  and  of  impulse!  So 
often,  if  you  are  a  girl,  you  think  that  the  thing  which 
is  at  the  top  is  the  thing  you  really  most  want  to  do; 
and  the  thing  which  is  right  underneath  is  the  one  you 
are  tired  of,  and  want  to  put  away.  And  then  —  then 
—  nine  times  out  of  ten — you  find  that  the  under- 
most thing  is  the  one  that  is  strongest  of  all,  and  you 
can't  tear  it  out  —  and "  her  voice  faltered  into  si- 
lence. 

Oliver  stood  in  a  dreadful  stillness.  He  fancied 
he  could  feel  his  hair  lift.  A  thought  too  awful  for 
contemplation  was  presenting  itself  to  his  terrified  con- 
sciousness. He  had  acted  too  soon 

Beads  of  moisture  broke  out  upon  his  forehead. 
Every  vein  in  his  body  seemed  over-full.  "  How  dare 
you ! "  he  said  under  his  breath.  "  What  right  have 
you  to  come  here  talking  to  me  like  this  ?  Go  home ! 
You  are  shameless !  Go  back  to  Railton,  the  man  who 
has  a  right  to  your  confidence " 

She  shrank  away  as  if  in  fear.  "  Ollie !  "  She 
wavered.  "  Ollie,  don't  you  see  that  I  am  trying  to 
tell  you  .  .  .  trying  to  beg  your  pardon?  Ollie,  you 
don't  know  how  different  life  seems,  when  you  are  away, 
separated,  in,  a  place  so  unlike  England!  You  can't 
think  how  all  the  dear  old  friends  come  rushing  to  your 
heart  when  you  are  back  again,  in  the  midst  of  the  real 
home  things,  the  things  that  are  your  life!  I  know 
I  have  behaved  disgracefully,  and  I  am  ready  to  eat 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     75 

plates  full  of  humble  pie !  But  if  you  say  the  word  " 
—  with  her  hands  joined  she  came  timidly  a  step  nearer 
to  the  man  who  had  never  repulsed  her  in  his  life :  "  if 
you  say  the  word,  I  will  break  it  off  to-morrow!  I 
want  to!  I  don't  love  Mr.  Railton  one  little  bit! 
You  know,  you  know  I  don't.  You  must  know  how 
it  is,  and  who  it  is.  .  .  ." 

"  Stop !  I  know  nothing  of  the  kind !  "  He  could 
hardly  articulate,  but  at  any  cost  he  must  cut  her  short 
there.  In  all  his  succeeding  life,  the  agony  of  that 
moment  stood  out  supreme.  It  was  almost  a  relief, 
since  the  worst  must  come,  and  could  not  be  averted,  to 
hear  the  opening  door  and  to  see  his  wife  enter. 

She  had  dressed  in  haste,  for  she  knew  herself  late, 
and  imagined  that  Mrs.  Brendon  was  awaiting  her. 
Mrs.  Brendon,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  having  fallen  asleep 
after  an  afternoon  of  headache,  was  not  likely  to  be 
down  yet.  Astrid  stood  looking  from  her  husband  to 
Vivien  and  back  again;  conscious  of  something  tense, 
something  wild,  in  the  atmosphere. 

There  was  but  one  course  possible  for  Oliver. 

"  Miss  Faulkner,"  he  said,  in  tones  which  he  vainly 
strove  to  render  natural,  "  let  me  introduce  my  wife," 

He  had  succeeded,  then,  in  one  of  his  objects.  He 
had  married  Miss  Carey  in  order  to  be  revenged  upon 
Vivien  Faulkner,  and  he  was  revenged  upon  her.  The 
child  looked  as  if  shot  through  the  heart  Without  a 
word  she  sank  down  upon  the  chair  near  which  she 
stood ;  and  Astrid  thought  she  was  going  to  faint  She 
did  not.  All  three  of  them  preserved  silence,  while 
she  wrestled  with  the  blow.  Oliver  was  so  absorbed  in 
the  sufferings  of  Vivien  that  it  never  occurred  to  him 
to  wonder  if  Astrid  thought  the  scene  peculiar.  As- 
trid, in  whose  hand  the  key  to  the  whole  puzzle  had 


76      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

just  been  placed,  was  too  immersed  in  her  own  thoughts 
to  wonder  at  anything. 

In  a  minute  or  two  Vivien  got  slowly  to  her  feet. 
"  I  think  you  said  your  wife  ?  "  she  asked,  lifting  a 
blanched  face  to  him. 

"  My  wife.  I  have  been  married  a  fortnight,"  he 
said  clearly.  For  the  sake  of  this  moment  he  had 
wrecked  his  life.  Was  his  triumph  to  be  spoilt  for 
him  because  of  a  faithless  little  flirt's  white  cheeks? 

"  I  hope,"  said  Vivien  faintly,  "  I  hope  you  will  be 
very  happy." 

She  crossed  the  room  to  where  Astrid  was  standing, 
and  lifted  her  eyes,  dark  with  pain,  to  see  what  man- 
ner of  woman  this  was. 

"  I  dare  say,"  she  faltered,  "  that  you  have  heard 
about  my  being  engaged  to  Oliver —and  jilting  him. 
He  has  found  somebody  —  more  faithful.  I  am  glad 
of  that;  at  least,  I  shall  be.  I  am  going  to  be  mar- 
ried in  a  fortnight  —  and  go  away  to  America." 

Oliver  had  collected  himself.  He  went  to  where  her 
things  were  lying  upon  the  chair  and  lifted  them. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  how  kind  we  think  it  of  you,  com- 
ing so  soon  to  see  us  —  even  before  we  knew  you  had 
returned,"  he  said  smoothly.  "  I  expect  the  next  fort- 
night will  be  such  a  rush  that  you  will  have  no  more 
time  to  give  us !  " 

She  let  him  put  on  her  coat  as  though  hardly  con- 
scious of  her  surroundings.  She  took  her  large  hat 
and  its  pins,  and  went  back  to  the  mirror  to  adjust  them. 

The  rain  beat  upon  the  windows  in  streams. 

"  I  will  take  you  home,"  said  Oliver,  as  she  turned 
from  the  glass  and  approached  the  door. 

Astrid,  who  had  not  spoken  a  word,  moved  forward 


A    MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE     77 

then,  and  held  out  her  hand.  "  Good-bye,"  she  said, 
very  low. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Vivien,  stumbling  over  a  sob.  She 
did  not  take  the  offered  hand.  She  passed  out  into  the 
hall,  where  Oliver  was  putting  on  his  coat  and  selecting 
a  large  umbrella. 

"  Tell  my  mother,"  said  he  to  his  wife,  "  that  I  am 
dining  in  town  to-night.  Nobody  to  sit  up  for  me." 

Astrid  stood  upon  the  threshold  and  watched  him 
depart,  with  Vivien.  She  made  no  reply.  Her  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  the  twilight  into  which  the  two  figures 
disappeared. 

It  is  only  quite  a  little  way  from  the  Abbot's  House 
to  the  Park.  Past  the  church,  and  one  or  two  old 
houses.  Every  step  of  the  way,  to  Oliver,  was  full  of 
memories,  memories  of  the  most  poignant  kind.  To 
and  fro,  along  this  road,  he  had  passed,  in  the  moments 
when  life  was  golden,  glorified  by  the  kiss  of  a  girl's 
lips.  To  and  fro  had  he  paced,  when  the  shrine  was 
empty  and  the  girl  far  from  his  longing  arms.  Again, 
he  had  walked  there  when  he  knew  her  untrue  —  pic- 
turing the  face  he  knew,  offered  to  the  kisses  of  another 
jnan. 

And  now  —  what  ? 

She  had  come  back  to  him.  She  had  only  been  weak 
and  faltering,  not  base.  The  moment  she  was  home 
she  had  flown  to  what  she  had  felt  certain  would  prove 
a  safe  refuge.  She  had  come  to  ask  to  be  forgiven. 
.  .  .  It  was  incredible!  .  .  .  But  for  his  own  mad- 
ness, she  would  be  in  his  arms  that  minute. 

They  were  out  together,  in  darkness  and  rain.  He 
had  opened  and  closed  the  drive  gate.  The  wind  buf- 
feted them.  He  found  himself  speaking,  in  a  harsh 


78      A    MAKE- SHI  FT    MARRIAGE 

voice  he  hardly  knew.  "  Let  us  get  under  the  shelter 
of  the  big  trees." 

Silently  she  went  where  he  guided  her.  They  stood 
together,  screened  from  wind  and  rain,  in  a  haven  of 
dark  silence.  It  was  in  his  heart  to  seize  her,  to  in- 
flict some  chastisement  for  what  he  was  suffering  — 
to  cry  out  to  her  — "  You  have  destroyed  me !  "  There 
was  also  present  with  him  the  desire  to  say  to  her  — 
"  Let  us  escape !  We  are  together,  we  love  each  other, 
let  me  take  you  away,  where  nothing  can  come  be- 
tween us." 

He  believed  that,  should  he  say  this,  she  would  go 
with  him.  For  a  few  dizzy  moments  his  mind  played 
with  the  idea.  But  he  was  bound.  Even  in  this  mo- 
ment, when  nothing  else  seemed  to  count,  there  was 
a  something  which  restrained  him.  Sub-consciously 
he  was  aware  that  things  were  not  yet  so  black  that 
they  might  not  be  worse.  Something  —  was  it  train- 
ing, or  was  it  innate  in  himself  2  —  held  him  back. 
He  could  do  nothing.  They  stood  together  with  an 
ocean  rolling  between. 

The  hateful  part  of  it  was  that  he  could  not  speak, 
for  fear  of  breaking  quite  down.  Tongue-tied  he  stood 
there,  until  a  little  sound  in  the  silence  broke  pitifully 
upon  his  ear.  Vivien  was  sobbing. 

Holding  the  big  umbrella  in  his  left  hand,  he  put 
his  right  arm  about  her.  His  sudden  pity  gave  him 
voice.  "  Vivien,  you  must  think  of  me  as  though 
I  were  dead,"  he  gasped.  "  I  am  dead.  Your  treach- 
ery killed  all  there  was  of  good  in  me.  I  am  spun.  I 
have  nothing  left  —  no  future.  But  you  have.  You 
must  have  thought  you  loved  this  —  this  gilded  ruffian. 
Try  and  be  happy  with  him  —  your  own  choice." 

She  burst  out  into  wild  sobs. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      79 

"  And  you  go  and  be  happy  with  yours !  " 

He  groaned.  That  uncouth  sound  of  suffering 
scared  her.  She  had  never  heard  a  man  groan,  and 
she  shrank  away. 

In  the  midst  of  what  he  was  bearing,  the  thought 
of  the  wretched  girl  whom  he  had  sacrificed  to  his 
vanity  came  to  cover  him  with  shame. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  this  is  too  awful,  we  must  not 
loiter  here.  We  must  say  good-bye,  and  there  an  end." 

She  had  utterly  lost  control  by  now,  and  was  weep- 
ing wildly,  and  gasping  out  reproaches.  "  Why  had  he 
let  her  go,  why  had  he  not  seen  that  he  must  fly  to  her 
and  protect  her?  Why  had  he  left  her  to  bear  the 
brunt  of  all  ?  " 

The  very  nature  of  her  complaints  showed  him  the 
gulf  that  lay  between  his  conception  of  what  love  meant, 
and  hers.  Yet  she  was  Vivien!  She  was  the  sweet, 
fresh,  feminine  thing  which  had  kindled  the  manhood 
in  Oliver  Brendon.  They  were  sheltered  from  the 
rain  in  the  spot  where  they  stood,  and  the  darkness  had 
fallen.  He  shut  the  umbrella,  and  took  her  wet  face 
between  his  hands. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said,  "  think  of  me  as  though  I 
were  dead.  It  is  the  only  way.  When  you  are  half- 
way across  the  Atlantic,  you  will  have  forgotten  me. 
But  for  the  sake  of  the  past,  give  me  a  last  good-bye." 

"  Ollie,  can't  we  do  anything  ?     It  is  really  true  — 
you  are  actually  married  to  that  grave,  pale  woman  ? " 
"  I  am  married." 

He  but  just  managed  to  articulate.  The  touch  of 
her  lips  was  breaking  down  his  resolution.  The  flash 
of  carriage  lamps  upon  the  gloom  ended  the  pitiful 
scene.  Fearful  of  being  seen  and  recognised,  he  picked 
up  and  spread  the  umbrella,  and  piloted  her  with  de- 


80      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

termination  along  the  remaining  short  .bit  of  road,  in 
at  the  Park  Gates. 

"  I  had  better  not  come  to  the  door,"  he  said  gruffly. 
"  Good  night." 

A  moment  later  he  was  tramping  down  the  wet  road 
,to  the  station.  What  should  he  do,  where  could  be  go, 
to  obtain  a  temporary  oblivion? 


CHAPTER  IX 

Go,  with  thy  chosen  mate! 
The  fashion  of  thy  going  nearly  cured 
The  sorrow  of  it.     I  am  yet  so  weak 
That  half  my  thoughts  go  after  thee;  but  not 
So  weak  that  I  desire  to  have  it  so. —  JEAN  INGELOW. 

TEN  minutes  after  he  left  the  house  Sybil  came  down- 
stairs, full  of  apologies.  She  had  dropped  asleep,  and 
Morris  would  not  wake  her.  Her  headache  was  quite 
gone,  and  she  was  ashamed  of  her  behaviour. 

She  found  only  her  daughter-in-law  awaiting  her. 

"  Is  not  Oliver  in  ?  I  thought  I  heard  him  come," 
she  cried. 

"  He  came  in  for  a  minute,  to  say  he  was  dining 
out,  and  nobody  was  to  sit  up  for  him,"  replied  Astrid. 

"  Indeed  ?  Oh,  it  is  with  Colonel  Hayes,  I  expect. 
They  are  discussing  the  new  Football  Club,"  said  Sybil, 
without  much  anxiety. 

The  two  ladies  went  into  the  dining-room  and  talked 
together  much  as  usual.  Astrid  described  the  minia- 
tures which  she  had  seen  that  afternoon  at  the  Selbys, 
and  what  a  rush  she  had  had  to  complete  her  "  copy  " 
in  time  for  the  post.  Beyond  a  slight  absence  of  mind, 
she  betrayed  no  emotion. 

She  sat  down  quietly  in  the  drawing-room  until  cof- 
fee had  been  served  and  removed.  Then  Sybil,  look- 
ing up  from  the  book  she  was  just  cutting,  saw  the  in- 
tense eyes  fixed  upon  her  with  such  meaning  that  she 
dropped  her  paper-cutter,  crying: 

"  My  dear,  what  is  it  ?  " 
81 


82      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

Astrid  spoke  quietly  enough.  She  made  no  move- 
ment with  her  hands  to  describe  what  she  meant.  It 
was  difficult  to  say  what  produced  the  notion  which 
was  conveyed  to  Sybil,  of  a  very  fury  of  feeling  con- 
trolled. 

"  I  have  found  it  out,"  she  said.  "  I  mean,  I  have 
found  out  why  your  son  married  me." 

Sybil  did  not  interrupt,  except  by  an  "  Indeed !  " 
which  showed  she  expected  her  to  continue. 

"  He  married  me  because  he  wanted  to  be  revenged, 
somehow,  I  hardly  understand  how,  upon  the  woman 
he  loves.  She  has  been  here  this  evening " 

"What!" 

"Yes.  Miss  Faulkner  has  been  here  this  evening. 
Mr.  Brendon  found  her  here  when  he  came  in.  I  do 
not  know  what  passed  between  them,  for  they  had  been 
some  time  together  when  I,  not  knowing  that  anybody 
was  here,  came  downstairs.  She  told  me  that  she  had 
been  engaged  to  him,  and  had  jilted  him.  I  think  she 
came  to  ask  him  to  forgive  her  and  to  renew  the  en- 
gagement between  them." 

"  Oh,  Astrid,  impossible !  " 

"  No.  That  is  how  it  is.  I  saw  her,  young  and 
golden-haired,  and  sweet  and  kissable,  like  the  girl 
in  a  story-book.  The  sordidness  of  life  has  never 
brushed  her  curls.  He  loves  her.  He  has  gone  away 
because,  after  seeing  her,  he  could  not  bear  the  sight 
of  me.  That  is  how  things  stand.  I  have  found  out, 
as  I  said  I  would.  I  determined  to  wait  until  I  knew, 
and  now  I  know." 

What  was  there  for  Oliver's  mother  to  say?  She 
tried,  two  or  three  times,  to  open  her  lips.  But  she 
was  not  equal  to  the  cruelty  of  "  What  did  you  expect  ?  " 
and  with  this  exception  she  had  nothing  to  reply. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      83 

Astrid  sat  immovable.  Her  eyes  were  shining,  her 
lips  feverishly  red.  But  she  was  in  full  command  of 
herself. 

"  Now  that  you  know,  Astrid,  what  is  your  opinion 
of  the  situation  ? "  faltered  Sybil  at  last.  "  You  see 
that  Oliver  is  to  blame.  Does  it  occur  to  you  that  any 
blame  rests  upon  yourself  as  well  ? " 

Astrid  knit  her  brows.  Then  a  bitter  little  smile 
showed  her  teeth  for  an  instant. 

"  You  mean,  for  being  such  a  fool  as  to  think  that 
any  young  man  could  desire  to  marry  me  for  myself  ?  " 

"  God  knows  I  do  not  wish  to  be  hard  upon  a  mother- 
less girl,"  said  Mrs.  Brendon.  "  But  you  must  have 
been  aware  that  your  marriage  was  a  most  peculiar  one. 
Any  young  woman,  however  inexperienced,  however 
without  friends  or  advisers,  must  have  known  that 
young  men  have  families,  and  that  they  do  not  keep 
their  marriage,  secret  without  some  reason." 

Astrid  hesitated,  as  if  weighing  her  reply.  Then 
she  said  simply,  "  I  have  known  him  for  what  seems  a 
long  time  now.  I  knew  he  trusted  me.  I  trusted  him. 
That  may  have  been  foolish,  but  I  don't  think  it  was 
wrong." 

Mrs.  Brendon  flung  away  her  book.  "  Could  you 
be  frank  with  me?"  she  implored.  "You  say  you 
have  known  Oliver  —  tell  me  how  well  you  knew  him. 
What  did  your  friendship  amount  to  ? " 

"  By  the  time  I  married  him  it  amounted  to  all  the 
world  to  me,  and  was  the  only  thing  I  lived  for,"  re- 
plied the  girl  quietly. 

"How  did  it  begin?" 

"  They  sent  me,  from  the  office  where  I  was  trained, 
to  do  various  bits  of  work  for  the  Penman,  At  first 
I  never  came  in  contact  with  him  at  all,  I  only  saw 


84      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

him  from  time  to  time,  when  he  came  into  the  outer 
office.  Then  he  asked  to  have  me  sent  to  do  a  bit 
of  translation  which  was  rather  difficult,  and  my  work 
pleased  him.  After  that  I  did  more  for  him,  and  then 
his  secretary,  a  young  man  called  Grant,  got  a  good 
appointment  in  Canada,  and  left,  and  Mr.  Brendon 
asked  me  if  I  thought  I  could  take  it  on.  I  was  very 
pleased.  Proud  too.  It  was  splendid  pay,  and  he 
said  he  would  raise  me." 

"Splendid  pay?" 

"  Two  pounds  a  week.  You  try  living  on  thirty 
shillings,  and  see  what  your  rise  means !  " 

"Yes?     Well,  what  then?" 

"  It  meant  a  great  deal  of  interesting  work,  looking 
up  authorities  in  the  British  Museum  and  so  on.  We 
got  in  the  habit  of  talking  about  things,  and  were 
friends.  One  day,  long  ago  now,  more  than  a  year 
ago,  he  was  feeling  bored  and  tired,  and  he  asked  me 
to  go  out  and  dine  with  him  and  do  a  theatre.  It  was 
a  play  that  all  the  papers  were  discussing,  and  he 
thought  of  doing  a  long  article  himself  about  it  for 
the  paper,  and  said  he  would  like  my  opinion.  Well,  I 
refused." 

"  Refused  ? " 

"Yes.  I  said  he  was  not  to  think  me  silly,  nor 
that  I  was  imagining  things.  But  I  had  to  live  alone, 
and  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  in  my  time.  I  know  that, 
even  with  the  nicest  men,  girls  have  to  be  so  careful. 
In  fact,  in  spite  of  what  they  put  in  books,  I  think  it- 
is  the  nicest  men  that  you  have  to  beware  of.  I  hate 
the  other  kind,  myself,  and  I  believe  most  girls  do. 
Besides,  of  course  the  other  kind  would  never  look  at 
me,  or  want  me,"  she  added,  with  a  little  laugh.  "  I 
was  never  in  danger  from  them,  never  followed  about, 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      85 

nor  noticed  in  the  streets,  as  some  are.  But  there  it 
was !  His  friendship  was  growing  to  mean  so  much  to 
me,  and  I  determined  not  to  spoil  it." 

"  What  did  he  say  ? "  asked  Sybil,  with  interest. 

"He  was  a  good  deal  put  out,  and  inclined  to  be 
cross  with  me.  I  thought  I  had  been  a  fool,  and  that 
perhaps  after  that  he  would  be  afraid  to  talk  to  me 
naturally.  I  had  a  good  try  to  make  it  clear  that  I 
trusted  him  all  right,  but  that  I  had  a  rule  and  wouldn't 
break  it.  Still,  I  went  back  to  work  next  day  feeling 
very  uncomfortable.  However,  he  was  nicer  than 
ever.  He  had  always  been  nice,  but  after  that  he 
really  treated  me  as  an  equal.  I  was  very  happy, 
not  a  wild,  excited  kind  of  happiness,  but  a 
pleasant,  everyday  content;  until  there  came  a  time 
when  he  left  off  addressing  a  word  to  me  that  was  not 
business.  I  had  grown,  as  I  thought,  to  know  him  so 
well  by  then  that  I  soon  made  up  my  mind  that  it  was 
not  I  who  had  done  anything  wrong,  but  he  who  was 
tremendously  preoccupied.  Looking  back,  I  can  see  the 
meaning  of  it  all.  That  must  have  been  when  he  fell 
in  love." 

"  Last  autumn,"  murmured  Sybil. 

"Yes,  last  autumn.  He  grew  moody  and  much 
more  difficult  to  please  than  of  old.  I  had  my  own 
idea  about  it,  and  I  thought  he  was  having  difficulties 
with  the  proprietor.  I  just  did  everything  I  could  to 
spare  him,  and  took  extra  pains  that  no  slips  were 
made,  and  called  his  attention  to  every  trifling  detail: 
a  word  to  be  changed,  or  a  phrase  omitted.  After 
Christmas,  when  all  the  fuss  was  over,  and  the  paper 
was  running  beautifully,  and  the  circulation  going  up, 
I  expected  to  see  him  recover.  But  though  he  was  just 
like  his  old  self  now  and  then,  he  was  still  moody,  and 


86      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

sometimes  very  depressed.  At  last  came  a  time  when 
he  was  so  evidently  suffering  that  I  was  in  a  dreadful 
state  about  him.  He  never  touched  food  all  day,  and 
when  I  went  in  he  would  be  sitting  staring  straight 
before  him,  looking  quite  rigid.  He  said  he  could 
not  dictate,  and  he  did  not  work,  though  the  next  day 
was  press  day.  I  was  alarmed.  Remember  I  al- 
ways thought  of  him  as  a  man  who  lived  alone.  He  had 
never  spoken  a  word  to  me  on  his  personal  affairs,  nor 
I  to  him.  I  thought  he  was  feeling  physically  ill,  and 
was  afraid  he  had  some  symptom  which  was  frightening 
him.  Anyway,  I  was  fool  enough  to  wait  until  all  the 
clerks  had  gone,  and  then  to  march  into  the  office  and 
ask  him  if  I  could  do  anything  to  help  him.  That 
was  wrong,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  My  dear  girl,  how  can  I  censure  you,  just  for  show- 
ing womanly  sympathy  ? " 

"  That  was  the  bandage  I  used  to  blind  my  own 
eyes,"  said  Astrid  fiercely.  "  I  called  it  womanly  sym- 
pathy. It  was  not.  I  was  in  lova  .  .  .  Do  you 
know,"  she  went  on,  with  a  sudden  cry,  "  that  a  lonely 
girl  must  live  for  something,  or  go  mad?  O,  yes,  I 
said  my  prayers,  and  went  to  church,  and  I  did  —  yes, 
I  did  —  trust  in  God!  But  God  has  only  given  the 
nun's  vocation  to  very  few  women,  at  least  in  England ! 
I  wanted  some  kind  of  a  life  in  this  world,  where  He 
had  put  me!  I  didn't  know  I  was  in  love  with  Mr. 
Brendon,  but  when  you  wake  in  the  morning  with  noth- 
ing to  look  forward  to  but  the  sound  of  one  man's  voice 
and  the  little  things  he  may  say  and  do,  and  nothing  to 
look  back  upon  when  you  go  to  bed  but  the  memory 
of  them  —  what  does  it  mean  ?  It  means  that  one  man 
has  come  to  fill  your  whole  life,  and  that,  unless  some 
other  image  comes  to  supplant  his,  you  are  in  love  with 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      87 

him.  ...  I  could  laugh  now,  thinking  over  my  folly! 
Of  course,  I  never  said  to  myself  then  any  of  the  wise 
things  I  am  saying  to  you  now !  I  was  just  living  on 
from  day  to  day,  for  the  pleasure  of  serving  him  and 
being  with  him.  .  .  .  And  I  hardly  knew  him.  I  was 
in  love  with  my  own  idea  of  him !  I  thought  of  him 
as  absolutely  good  and  upright  and  as  knowing  every- 
thing and  understanding  everything " 

"  He  did  not  know  —  could  not  have  known  —  that 
you  felt  like  this?"  cried  Sybil,  almost  appealingly. 
The  tears  were  standing  in  her  eyes. 

"Know?  Of  course  he  didn't.  How  should  he? 
When  I  went  in,  that  afternoon  —  I  ought  to  tell  you 
that  I  had  borne  it  for  three  days,  this  was  the  last 
and  worst  of  the  three  —  he  took  it  for  what  you  said  — 
womanly  sympathy." 

"Well,  what  did  he  say?" 

"  First  of  all  he  asserted  peevishly  that  he  was  not 
ill.  I  said  it  was  no  use  his  denying  it,  he  was  ill,  and 
he  would  be  worse  if  he  could  not  eat.  We  argued  on 
for  some  time  about  it,  I  trying  to  be  patient  with 
him,  but  not  giving  way,  and  he  by  degrees  growing 
a  little  softer,  as  if  he  really  was  glad  of  somebody's 
sympathy,  even  though  it  was  only  mine.  After  a 
good  while,  he  said,  '  Well,  I  would  go  out  and  have 
some  dinner  if  you  would  come  too.  I  am  not  good 
company  for  myself.  But  you  are  so  pious  and  proper, 
you  would  not  be  seen  sitting  with  me  in  a  restaurant 
on  any  consideration,  would  you  ? '  I  said,  '  That  is 
only  an  excuse,  and  you  know  it.  But  if  you  are  so 
anxious  for  my  company,  shall  I  go  and  order  some 
dinner  to  be  sent  up  here,  and  I  will  stay  until  you 
have  eaten  it.  I  have  a  good  many  things  to  tidy  up  and 
put  away/  He  burst  out  — *  Then  you  would  not  eat 


88      A    MAKE -SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

with  me  ? '  I  said,  '  You  give  me  a  good  salary,  and 
I  pay  for  my  own  food;  I  don't  want  to  sponge  on 
you.'  He  sat  quiet  a  little  while,  and  then  said,  '  I 
wonder  why  I  can't  get  on  with  girls  —  why  they  won't 
do  things  like  this  for  me  ?  Why,  I  know  dozens  of 
men,  pretty  average  fools,  some  of  'em,  and  they  only 
have  to  hold  up  their  finger  to  get  girls  to  go  about 
with  them,  to  suppers  and  theatres  and  what  not.'  I 
could  not  help  answering  that,  and  I  did  so  quickly, 
hardly  thinking  what  I  said  — '  O,'  I  cried,  '  the  mis- 
take you  make  is  in  coming  to  the  wrong  girl !  There 
are  heaps  and  heaps  of  the  others,  if  you  want  them.' 
He  sat  so  still  that  I  thought  I  had  offended  him  deeply, 
and  I  got  scarlet.  I  went  and  stood  close  beside  him 
by  the  table,  and  as  he  still  sat  there,  staring  at  the 
floor,  I  mumbled  something  about  being  sorry  if  I  had 
hurt  him.  He  raised  his  eyes  to  my  face  then,  and  said, 
very  slowly,  '  But  I  don't  agree.  I  think  I  have  come 
to  the  right  girl.  I  didn't  know  it,  but  I  have.  Will 
you  marry  me,  my  dear  ? ' 

Her  voice  died  away.  The  look  in  her  eyes  showed 
how  she  was  visualising  this  —  the  one  scene  of  her 
life.  Sybil  gasped,  and  shivered.  "  Go  on."  There 
was  no  response.  "  O,"  she  sobbed  out,  "  try  and  tell 
me  the  rest !  " 

"  Think  of  me,"  said  Astrid  in  a  whisper,  "  stand- 
ing there  in  my  office  frock  .  .  .  and  think  of  the  pic- 
ture he  had  in  his  mind's  eye!  Miss  Faulkner!  .  .  . 
Well,  I  gulped  out,  '  Of  all  the  things  in  the  world  that 
I  did  not  expect  you  to  say ! '  And  he  answered, 
'  Quite  so.  I  have  said  it  because  I  was  so  sure  you 
did  not  expect  it.  You  have  nothing  of  the  flirt  in 
you.'  I  could  answer  truly,  1 1  have  never  flirted,  with 
you  or  anybody  else.'  He  asked  me  if  I  thought  I 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     89 

could  get  on  with  him.  '  We  know  each  other  pretty 
well,'  he  said.  'You  know  I  am  not  demonstrative.' 
I  said  I  liked  him  just  as  he  was."  The  speaker  broke 
off,  and  turned  to  Sybil,  laying  her  hand  earnestly  upon 
her  gown. 

"  I  trusted  him  as  if  he  had  been  God,"  she  said. 
"  In  my  ignorance,  I  thought  there  could  be  but  one 
reason  for  his  asking  me  to  be  his  wife.  I  have  no 
money,  I  have  not  much  in  the  way  of  looks  —  I  could 
not  see  any  reason  for  his  request,  other  than  the  one 
mighty,  overpowering  one,  that  he  loved  me.  I  did  not 
hold  back  much.  I  hardly  knew  where  I  was,  or  what 
I  was  doing,  I  was  caught  up  into  heaven,  as  it  were, 
and  all  I  knew  was  that  if  he  wanted  me,  he  must 
have  me.  He  told  me  that  he  hated  fuss  and  publicity, 
and  asked  me  to  marry  him  quite  quietly  and  at  once. 
He  wrote  to  my  aunt  in  Dublin,  Miss  Nolan,  and  asked 
her  consent,  stating  his  position.  His  lawyers  and 
bankers  wrote  to  her  also,  I  believe,  and  he  said  he 
would  settle  something  on  me,  I  forget  what.  I  see 
now  how  idiotic  I  was  not  to  make  inquiries  about  his 
family  and  so  on.  But  what  little  sense  was  left  me 
was  all  expended  upon  behaving  rationally  as  long  as  I 
was  in  his  employment.  He  told  me  that  he  had  been 
feeling  very  unwell,  but  that  he  should  be  better  be- 
fore long,  and  that  after  we  were  married  he  would 
take  a  holiday.  I  thought  he  had  made  arrangements 
to  do  that,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that,  when  we  passed 
the  threshold  of  the  church  together,  and  I  knew  he 
was  my  own,  I  could  make  him  well  whatever  ailed 
him,  with  the  force  of  my  devotion  and  my  will  to  serve 
him." 

"  Had  you  no  friends  of  your  own  at  all  in  Lon- 
don?" 


90      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"  Only  two  or  three  girls,  and  he  asked  me  to  say 
nothing  of  it  to  them.  I  only  told  my  landlady,  who 
is  very  nice,  but  just  a  working- woman,  not  a  person 
likely  to  be  acquainted  with  any  one  through  whom 
the  secret  might  come  out.  She  went  to  church  with 
me." 

"  Astrid,  tell  me  candidly,  how  did  Oliver  behave 
during  your  fortnight's  engagement  ?  Did  he  give 
you  any  cause  to  suppose  that  he  was  in  love  with 
you?" 

The  girl  reflected.  "  Perhaps  not,  to  any  girl  less 
besotted  than  I  was.  But  I  thought  that  his  coldness 
was  my  own  fault.  The  day  he  asked  me  to  marry 
him,  he  took  me  in  his  arms,  and  kissed  me  many 
times,  with  —  it  would  almost  be  true  to  say,  violently. 
He  could  not  know,  of  course,  the  effect  it  would  have 
upon  me.  I  almost  fainted.  I  was  afraid  of  my  own 
feelings,  and  I  told  him  he  must  not  do  it  again.  It 
made  me  feel  like  a  housemaid,  somehow,  being  kissed 
in  the  office,  when  the  other  clerks  were  gone.  He 
said  he  had  many  things  to  arrange,  and  so  had  I,  so 
we  did  not  spend  our  evenings  together.  Now  that  I 
look  back  upon  it,  I  see  how  each  day  of  that  awful 
fortnight  he  must  have  repented  his  madness  more  and 
more.  I  am  sure  that  he  was  increasingly  cold.  But 
I,  poor  fool,  took  it  all  for  granted.  I  had  the  memory 
of  those  kisses,  and  I  lived  upon  it.  Every  look  he  be- 
stowed was  to  me  only  an  earnest  of  what  was  held  back 
—  of  the  tenderness  he  had  to  expend  upon  me,  when 
there  was  no  chance  of  his  being  misunderstood.  O,  if 
I  had  but  known  you  then !  0,  if  I  could  recall  it  all ! 
.  .  .  The  self-contempt !  .  .  .  I  could  kill  myself !  " 

Her  head  drooped  forward  upon  her  clenched  hands. 
As  she  sat  so,  elbows  supported  on  her  knees,  the  long 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     91 

curves  of  her  thin  body  bent  together  in  her  hu- 
miliation, the  pity  in  Sybil's  heart  was  ready  to  melt 
into  a  warmer  emotion.  Certainly  her  daughter-in-law 
was  capable  of  feeling,  to  a  degree  not  bestowed  upon 
every  daughter  of  Eve. 

Mrs.  Brendon,  at  fifty,  was  rarely  moved  by  im- 
pulse ;  but  under  the  goad  of  this  one  she  rose  from  her 
seat,  crossed  the  hearth,  moved  a  chair  close,  sat  down 
and  put  her  arm  round  the  bowed  figure,  while  with  her 
other  hand  she  drew  the  abased  head  to  lean  against  her 
breast. 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  go  on  ? "  she  whispered. 
"  Try  to  tell  me  the  rest  .  .  .  what  you  oan  of  the  rest." 

Astrid,  with  a  shivering  sob,  made  a  momentary  re- 
sistance to  the  constraint  of  the  compassionate  arms. 
It  was  but  momentary.  The  thrill  of  that  embrace  — 
the  consciousness  of  being  understood  and  pitied,  not 
cast  out,  by  the  woman  who  had  suffered  through  her  so 
deeply, —  was  overpowering. 

With  a  little  moan  she  turned,  put  up  her  arms,  and 
clung  to  the  human  shelter;  clung  closer  and  closer, 
feeling  upon  her  forehead  the  touch  of  womanly  lips, 
like  balm  to  the  aching  heart. 

"  The  rest  is  too  dreadful,"  she  said  at  last.  "  I 
can't  tell  it,  you  know.  The  morning  we  —  we  were 
married  I  felt  just  like  Jane  Eyre  did  on  the  morning 
of  her  wedding-day :  that  it  simply  couldn't  be  true.  I 
should  wake,  and  find  I  was  still  Astrid  Carey,  the 
typewriting  clerk  trudging  off  to  her  daily  task.  Then 
I  got  up,  and  put  on  my  poor  little  white  frock,  and  I 
had  a  weak,  timid  hope  that  he  might  have  sent  me 
some  flowers.  He  had  not.  I  told  myself  he  was  not 
that  kind  of  man.  He  had  not  given  me  anything,  and 
I  was  most  proud  of  the  fact  I  told  myself  he  knew 


92      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

I  was  above  that  kind  of  nonsense.  O,  was  I  not  a  fool, 
a  fool,  a  girl  who  deserved  to  be  humiliated,  for  being 
such  a  simpleton  ?  " 

Sybil  could  not  answer.  All  her  being  was  in  an  out- 
cry. "  That  my  son  should  have  betrayed  a  heart  like 
this !  "  She  had  no  words,  but  she  clasped  the  slender 
body  closer. 

"  He  looked  so  strange  when  we  got  to  church,  that 
I  was  on  the  point  of  asking  him  if  he  felt  too  ill  to 
go  through  it.  However,  he  seemed  in  a  great  hurry, 
and  gave  me  no  time  to  say  anything  at  all.  Then  a 
horrible  thing  happened.  He  had  bought  a  wedding 
ring  so  much  too  large  that  nothing  would  make  it  stay 
on  my  finger;  and  directly  after  the  service  we  had  to 
drive  to  the  shop  and  change  it.  I  knew  by  that  time 
that  something  was  desperately  wrong.  Either  he  was 
very  ill,  or  —  an  alarming  thought  —  he  must  be  go- 
ing mad.  I  was  humble  enough  —  content  that  he 
should  be  abstracted,  should  have  his  mind  fixed,  as  it 
seemed  to  be,  upon  the  proof  sheets  of  the  Penman. 
But  I  could  not  bear  that  he  should  be  miserable  as 
well.  As  we  were  going  down  to  Brighton,  I  made  a 
brave  attempt  to  reach  him  —  to  show  him  that  I  was 
there  if  he  wanted  me,  ready  to  help,  to  do  or  be  any- 
thing he  wanted.  .  .  ." 

"  He  did  not  repulse  you,  surely,  surely !  " — 

"  O,  he  was  quite  polite,"  said  Astrid  simply. 

There  was  a  pulsing  silenca  Sybil's  hand  was 
passing  softly  over  her  daughter-in-law's  hair.  The 
coals  sank  together  in  the  grate,  and  the  spaniel  gave 
a  contented  sigh.  The  warm  perfumed  room  seemed  as 
though  it  also  suspired  in  a  sympathy  too  deep  for 
words. 

"  When  we  got  to  the  hotel,  he  actually  went  out  by 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     93 

himself,  with  the  excuse  of  ringing  somebody  up  on  the 
telephone,  and  stayed  away  two  hours.  During  those 
two  hours,  as  I  sat  alone  there,  wondering  where  he  was, 
and  why  he  had  left  me,  a  curious  thing  happened.  I 
felt  as  if  I  were  alone  with  myself  for  the  first  time 
since  my  engagement.  You  know  that  story  in  the 
Arabian  Nights,  where  they  bandage  a  woman's  eyes, 
and  lead  her  through  mysterious  places,  and  then  at  last 
the  bandage  is  taken  off,  and  she  finds  herself  alone,  in 
a  strange  house,  with  no  idea  how  she  could  ever  get 
back  to  the  life  she  knew  ?  " 

She  paused,  lost  in  the  painful  memory,  and  her  lis- 
tener murmured  an  anxious,  sympathetic  adjuration 
that  she  should  go  on. 

"  The  bandage  was  off,"  continued  the  speaker,  "  and 
I  was  most  horribly  afraid.  The  moment  I  began  to 
think  sensibly,  I  could  see  that  something  was  wrong  — 
that  everything  was  wrong.  Why  should  my  husband 
be  so  miserable  ?  why  should  he  go  away  and  leave  me, 
just  at  the  time  when  a  girl  has  risked  everything,  and 
is  more  in  need  of  his  help  and  comfort  than  at  any 
other  time,  before  or  after —  or  so  it  seems  to  me  ?  It 
was  borne  in  upon  me  that  he  had  proposed  in  an  un- 
guarded moment,  that  he  had  not  meant  it  to  be  taken 
seriously  —  that  he  had  married  me  because  he  had 
said  he  would,  and  that  now  he  was  aghast  at  what  he 
had  done.  I  can't  describe  to  you  how  I  felt  when  I 
got  as  far  as  that.  I  looked  back  across  the  past  fort- 
night, and  I  could  not  recall  one  little  circumstance  that 
could  give  me  a  gleam  of  hope.  Why  he  had  ever  sup- 
posed that  he  wished  to  marry  me,  of  course  I  could 
not  divine.  I  only  knew,  with  a  cold,  settled  knowl- 
edge, that  he  did  not  love  me.  ...  He  came  back 
from  his  walk  in  a  different  mood." 


94      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"  A  better  mood  ? " 

"  I  did  not  think  so.  He  was  friendly  and  brisk,  and 
said  his  business  was  now  off  his  mind,  and  I  had  been 
very  patient,  and  we  would  have  dinner  and  get  warm 
and  enjoy  ourselves.  I  felt  like  a  stone,  unable  to  re- 
spond or  to  hide  my  blank  despair.  He  had  ordered  a 
very  good  dinner,  and  a  bottle  of  champagne.  He 
wanted  me  to  have  some,  but  I  do  not  like  wine  and  I 
am  not  used  to  it.  I  would  not  touch  it,  but  he  drank 
it  all.  Then,  you  see  ...  after  that,  he  wanted  me 
to  sit  beside  him  and  let  him  caress  me.  But  it  seemed 
as  if  I  had  seen  too  clearly  to  be  deceived  again.  I 
knew  that  he  was  not  sincere.  I  knew  he  was  forc- 
ing himself  to  —  to  behave  as  a  lover  might  have  done. 
I  can't  tell  you  how  it  horrified  me.  ...  I  am  very 
ignorant,  as  I  have  told  you.  I  know  nothing  at  all, 
but  I  believe  there  is  an  instinct  God  puts  into  a  girl's 
heart.  The  moment  Oliver  started  that  hollow  pre- 
tence at  love-making,  I  knew  that  all  I  feared  was  true. 
I  was  in  danger,  and  must  fight  for  my  self-respect,  for 
everything  I  held  most  precious." 

She  was  lying  partly  against  Sybil's  shoulder,  and 
partly  on  the  cushions  of  the  large  chair,  so  that  her 
face  was  turned  up  to  that  of  the  elder  woman,  and 
their  eyes  looked  straight  at  each  other. 

"He  was  not  the  least  bit  tipsy  —  O,  no!"  said 
Astrid,  answering  an  unspoken  fear ;  "  don't  think  that. 
He  was  a  little  excited,  that  was  all.  He  understood 
what  I  said.  I  admitted  that  I  had  sworn  to  be  his 
wife,  but  I  declared  that  I  would  not  fulfil  my  promise 
until  he  had  told  me,  openly  and  plainly,  why  he  had 
married  me.  I  said  I  knew  it  was  not  for  love,  but 
I  could  conceive  of  no  other  motive.  I  demanded  to 
know  it" 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      95 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  O,  he  protested  and  blustered  a  bit.  My  poor  lit- 
tle starving  heart  was  listening,  listening  all  the  time, 
to  seize  upon  any  crumb  of  sincerity,  any  little  trace  of 
true  feeling  for  me  —  hoping  against  hope  that  it  would 
turn  out  that  I  was  making  some  odious  mistake,  and 
that  this  really  was  at  heart  the  knight  without  fear 
and  without  reproach  whom  I  had  thought  I  married. 
.  .  .  O,  you  can  believe  I  was  not  hard  upon  him.  A 
word,  a  look,  I  would  have  been  in  his  arms  —  what 
do  I  say?  I  would  have  been  at  his  feet!  But  he 
could  not  say  it.  He  could  not  convince  me,  Tie  could 
not  even  convince  himself!  That  was  the  dreadful 
part !  To  see  him  ashamed,  him  whom  I  had  thought 
so  high!" 

"Yes?     And  then?—" 

"  Then  he  tried  the  proprietor's  attitude.  He  took 
hold  of  me,  and  told  me  angrily  that  he  was  my  hus- 
band. His  touch,  which  had  turned  me  faint  once  be- 
fore, only  stiffened  my  resolution  then.  When  he  found 
I  was  merely  contemptuous,  he  soon  gave  up  that !  Ah 
well,  I  easily  had  the  best  of  it  His  heart  was  not  in 
it,  he  did  not  want  me,  even  in  that  lowest  way !  O,  the 
degradation  of  it ! "  Her  face  was  turned  towards 
Sybil,  and  hidden  in  her  breast.  "  I  was  fighting,"  she 
sobbed,  "  for  all  that  a  woman  has  to  defend.  He  had 
no  right  to  me,  and  he  —  he  knew  it.  He  knew  he  did 
not  want  me  —  I  did  not  attract  him,  not  in  any  sense. 
He  is  too  much  a  gentleman  not  to  see  how  disgrace- 
fully he  was  behaving.  He  gave  it  up.  Next  day  he 
treated  me  as  though  he  were  deeply  offended.  It  was 
a  ghastly  day;  I  pray  I  may  never  spend  such  another. 
I  insisted  that  he  must  explain  himself  fully  before  I 
could  alter  my  manner  to  him.  He  said  there  was 


96     A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

nothing  to  explain,  that  I  must  be  cracked,  that  I  was 
behaving  intolerably,  but  that  he  did  not  wish  to  be 
brutal,  and  would  give  me  a  day  or  two  in  which  to  come 
to  my  senses.  I  think  he  fancied  that,  if  he  brought  me 
here,  I  should  not  dare  to  carry  on  the  feud.  He 
thought  I  should  be  afraid  of  you,  and  accept  the  situa- 
tion because  there  was  clearly  nothing  else  to  do." 

"  He  doesn't  seem  to  have  been  a  very  good  judge  of 
character,"  said  Sybil  softly. 

"  O,  it  was  simply  that  he  had  never  thought  about 
my  character,  one  way  or  the  other.  Now  that  I  have 
seen  her  —  now  that  I  know  what  he  was  going  through, 
I  can  make  allowance  for  him,  though  he  has  brought 
me  to  this  pass.  The  thing  is  ...  what  is  to  be 
done?" 

Sybil,  in  her  heart,  echoed  the  question  drearily 
enough ;  and  for  a  minute  silence  fell. 

"  I  often  think,"  presently  went  on  Oliver's  wife, 
"  that  people  don't  make  enough  allowance  for  the  igno- 
rance of  girls.  I  was  brought  up  by  people  who  knew 
nothing  about  life.  They  prided  themselves  on  that. 
I  lived  my  six  lonely  years  in  London  filled  with  the 
idea  that  I  must  be  very  careful  not  to  find  out  any- 
thing. I  have  learned  more  during  the  weeks  I  have 
been  with  you  than  in  all  my  previous  existence.  I  can 
see  now  how  odd  my  conduct  must  appear  in  your  eyes, 
or  in  anybody  else's.  But  I  cannot  feel  that  I  was 
altogether  to  blame  for  it,  unless  ignorance  is  a  crime. 
Don't  think  of  me  more  hardly  than  you  must.  If  it 
was  wrong  —  what  I  did  —  I  am  paying  for  it.  Ah ! 
Truly  I  am  paying." 

Sybil  wanted  to  break  in  upon  those  words ;  but  when 
she  strove  for  a  voice,  it  broke  in  her  throat.  She  had 
to  compress  her  lips  and  hold  her  breath  for  fear  of  an 


A    MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE     97 

outburst  of  weeping;  and  in  the  pause  the  pathetic  voice 
went  on, 

"  And  don't  think  too  hardly  of  him,  either.  How 
could  he  know  how  far-reaching  is  the  folly  of  igno- 
rance ? "  A  note  of  bitterness  crept  in.  "  I  believe 
he  thought  me  rather  sharp,  and  clever,  a  girl  who  knew 
better  than  to  make  herself  too  cheap  —  who  held  back 
in  order  that  the  magic  word  ( marriage '  might  be  ut- 
tered, and  now  takes  her  position  as  his  wife,  and  gives 
nothing  in  return.  Yes,  that  is  how  he  thinks  of  me, 
when  he  thinks  of  me  at  all !  ...  And  we  are  back  at 
the  same  question.  Can  anything  be  done  ?  Is  there 
a  chance  of  saving  him.  or  me  ?  " 


CHAPTER  X 

Nothing  would  be  a  lesson  to  u&  if  it  did  not  come  too  late. 

GEORGE  ELIOT. 

IT  was  long  past  midnight  when  Oliver  Brendon  let 
himself  in  with  his  latch-key  and  secured  the  hall-door. 
The  night  was  cold  and  sharp,  with  a  vivid  light  of 
stars,  as  intense  in  the  rain-cleared  air  as  the  sunshine 
had  seemed  that  afternoon  in  the  Selbys'  garden. 

He  came  in  quite  listlessly,  like  a  man  who  has 
passed  through  all  keen  feeling,  and  reached  the  point 
of  mental  numbness.  There  were  no  lights  downstairs. 
The  whole  household  had  retired  for  the  night.  He 
went  to  his  smoking-room  and  mixed  himself  a  drink 
from  the  tray  put  ready  for  him ;  but  there  was  no  fire, 
and  he  did  not  linger  downstairs. 

He  went  up  softly,  and,  in  accordance  with  an  old 
custom,  knocked  at  his  mother's  door.  He  had  always, 
from  his  teens,  possessed  a  latch-key;  but  long  ago  he 
had  accidentally  found  out  that  his  mother,  though  she 
did  not  sit  up,  lay  awake  when  he  was  out  late  until 
she  heard  his  return.  He  therefore  acquired  the  habit 
of  looking  in,  to  let  her  know  he  was  safe,  and  at  times 
to  give  her  news  of  his  evening's  entertainment. 

When  he  knocked  to-night,  he  thought  he  heard  her 
customary  low  "  Come  in  " ;  and  pushing  open  the  door, 
found  the  room  dark  and  empty.  He  was  so  surprised 
at  this  that  he  stood  a  long  time  staring  at  the  vacant 
bed.  Had  she  gone  away  without  warning,  leaving 
himself  and  Astrid  alone  together  in  the  house  ?  The 

98 


A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE     99 

thought  was  so  distasteful  as  to  pull  him  together,  with 
a  slight  shock. 

Her  evening  gown  lay  across  a  sofa,  her  trinkets 
strewed  the  dressing-table.  She  must  be  somewhere  in 
the  house.  As  he  turned  away  tiptoeing  along  the 
passage  he  saw  a  slit  of  light  glimmering  along  the  edge 
of  the  door  of  his  wife's  room.  Pausing  as  he  reached 
it,  he  could  hear  the  murmur  of  voices.  They  were  to- 
gether. 

How  much  did  Astrid  know  or  surmise,  from  what 
she  had  seen  that  night?  She  had  heard  Vivien  con- 
fess to  having  jilted  him.  Her  acute  intelligence  would 
put  two  and  two  together.  She  had  declared  that  she 
would  know  the  reason  why  he  married  her.  Well! 
Now  she  knew. 

Shrugging  his  shoulders,  he  went  into  his  own  room 
and  shut  himself  in  with  something  of  a  bang  to  an- 
nounce his  presence.  There  was  a  communicating 
door  between  this  room  and  his  wife's,  through  which 
sound  came  with  some  distinctness,  and  he  had  no  de- 
sire to  be  an  eavesdropper.  Nevertheless,  after  audibly 
striding  to  and  fro,  pulling  off  his  boots,  and  throwing 
them  down  outside  in  the  passage,  he  remained  motion- 
less, with  ears  alert. 

The  voices  had  ceased  altogether.  He  heard  suc- 
cessively two  small  sounds  which  might  be  a  sob  and  a 
kiss ;  then  the  soft  closing  of  the  door  and  the  rustle  of 
his  mother's  gown  in  the  corridor.  He  listened  after 
that  more  acutely  than  ever.  During  the  first  nights  of 
their  stay  at  the  Abbot's  House,  he  had  caught  such 
minor  sounds  as  testified  to  Astrid's  sleeplessness  — 
feet  restlessly  pacing,  a  window  raised  or  lowered,  the 
spurt  of  a  kindled  match,  the  pouring  of  water  into  a 
Jrumbler. 


100     A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

To-night  all  was  quiet.  After  hearkening  awhile  he 
flung  off  his  coat,  went  to  the  mirror  and  stared  at  him- 
self. He  remembered  that  he  had  always  privately 
thought  himself  rather  a  good-looking  fellow,  with  his 
well-modelled  chin,  olivart  tints  of  colouring,  and  dark 
hair  growing  so  well  upon  the  forehead,  in  a  good  curve 
with  a  ripple  where  it  rose  above  the  brow. 

It  was  a  face  of  which  strangers  would  ask,  catching 
sight  of  him  in  a  row  of  guests  at  a  public  dinner  — 
"  Who's  the  distinguished  young  man  with  the  profile  ?  " 

Well,  he  was  the  young  man  who  had  wrecked  three 
lives  because  he  was  unable  to  bear  his  first  disappoint- 
ment. 

To-morrow,  he  supposed  his  wife  would  wish  to  come 
to  some  understanding.  Well  and  good.  Everything 
was  all  the  same  to  him.  He  no  longer  flinched  from 
the  idea  of  a  scene.  What  did  it  all  matter,  since  he 
was  no  longer  free  to  marry  Vivien  ?  —  Vivien,  who 
had  been  kissed  and  caressed  by  Railton,  whose  attach- 
ment to  himself  had  not  stood  the  strain  of  a  few 
months'  absence. 

He  felt,  in  a  confused  way,  that  his  quarrel  with 
Vivien  was  not  so  much  for  acting  as  she  had  done,  as 
for  being  what  she  was.  He  was  shamed  through  all 
his  nature,  to  have  loved  so  slight  a  thing. 

Yet  he  wanted  her  —  hungered  for  her.  In  imagi- 
nation he  still  saw  and  felt  her.  She,  who  was  in  a 
fortnight  to  marry  another  man,  had  that  evening  given 
her  old  lover  kiss  for  kiss.  Never  had  she  been  so 
wholly  submissive  —  eagerly  submissive  —  to  his  ten- 
derness. He  knew  that  she  loved  him  better  in  his  in- 
dignation and  scorn  than  she  had  done  when  he  was  at 
her  feet. 

The  storm  of  feeling  had  passed  by  and  left  him 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      101 

passive.  He  contemplated  his  own  case  as  though  it 
were  another  man's. 

In  spite  of  all  that  he  had  experienced  that  evening, 
did  he  really  desire  to  be  free  to  marry  this  butterfly  ? 
Butterfly  he  might  call  her,  yet  she  had  made  shipwreck 
of  him.  He  was  on  the  rocks.  Must  he  sink,  and  be 
counted  a  total  loss  ? 

He  had  a  revolver,  in  a  corner  cupboard  under  lock 
and  key. 

Why  not? 

He  stood  there,  the  well-fashioned  product  of  a  ma- 
tured civilisation,  the  child  of  a  love-match,  the  cher- 
ished son  of  a  mother  who  had  never  in  his  memory 
done  an  unworthy  action.  Every  safeguard  which 
science  and  morals  have  devised  for  the  discipline  of  raw 
passion  had  been  present,  not  merely  from  his  birth, 
but  even  in  the  pre-natal  causes  which  produced  him. 
If  ever  a  young  man  should  have  exhibited  an  hereditary 
bias  towards  higher  things,  that  young  man  was  him- 
self. 

Yet  he  had  simply  crumpled  up  at  the  first  touch 
of  fire;  as  though  the  envelope  of  civilisation  were  a 
mere  paper  contrivance,  covering  the  sleeping  brute 
within,  easily  consumed,  destroyed  in  a  moment. 

He  saw  himself  a  waster  —  one  of  life's  failures  — 
without  the  excuse  such  derelicts  can  usually  urge,  of 
adverse  circumstances,  a  faulty  training,  a  bad  strain 
in  the  blood. 

The  means  of  final  exit  from  that  stage  whereon  he 
had  cut  so  poor  a  figure  was  in  the  corner  cupboard. 

But  there  was  his  mother.  Even  as  the  thought  of 
her  crossed  his  mind,  he  knew  that  he  could  not  add 
the  final  disgrace  of  his  suicide  to  the  disappointment 
he  had  already  caused  her. 


102      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

His  train  of  thought  proceeded  listlessly.  If  he 
could  not  commit  suicide,  there  was  nothing  for  it  but 
to  go  on.  Only  the  man  who  knows  exactly  what  he 
wants,  is  in  a  position  to  fight  fate.  Oliver  had  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  he  did  not  know  what  he  wanted. 
Vivien  was  no  longer  the  Vivien  he  had  wooed  and  won 
last  autumn.  He  still  desired  to  have  her,  but  his  new 
perception  of  her  lightness  broke  in  even  upon  his  long- 
ing, and  sullied  it.  Of  Astrid  he  thought  with  impa- 
tience and  distaste.  He  had  supposed  her  filled  with  a 
dog-like,  undiscriminating  affection,  ready  to  come  to 
heel  if  he  should  happen  to  want  her,  but  to  efface  her- 
self when  he  did  not.  She  had  adopted  an  attitude 
which  he  thought  inexcusable,  and  rather  shocking.  He 
hoped  his  mother  had  been  reasoning  with  her  for  her 
good.  However,  she  too,  like  Vivien,  had  blundered 
hopelessly  by  destroying  his  preconceived  idea  of  her. 
Nothing  mattered.  Everything  was  wrong.  If  As- 
trid had  been  talked  over  by  his  mother,  her  submis- 
sion had  come  too  late.  Viven's  kiss,  wet  with  Vivien's 
tears,  still  tingled  on  his  cheek.  The  other  girl  was  a 
weariness,  a  blank,  a  cypher. 

Well,  he  had  Byron's  authority  for  supposing  that 
"  love  is  of  man's  life  a  thing  apart."  He  had  only  to 
forget. 

The  attitude  adopted  by  Astrid  was  perhaps  after 
all  the  best.  She  made  no  demands  upon  him.  That 
left  him  free  to  lead  his  own  life.  He  had  plenty  of 
brains,  why  had  he  suddenly  supposed  a  woman  to 
be  necessary  to  him?  He  needed  the  world  of  men, 
where  such  vain  toys  do  not  count. 

With  such  thoughts  he  flung  himself  down  upon  his 
bed,  and  in  less  than  five  minutes  was  soundly  and 
heavily  sleeping.  .  .  . 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      103 

The  breakfast  table  next  morning  looked  as  inviting 
as  usual.  When  Oliver  entered,  his  wife  was  on  her 
knees  in  the  sunny  bay  window,  collecting  the  puppies 
and  setting  them  to  consume  their  dish  of  bread-and- 
milk.  Sybil,  having  made  tea  and  coffee,  was  half  hid- 
den behind  the  columns  of  the  Morning  Post. 

"  Good  morning,  old  man,"  she  said,  lifting  her  face 
to  his  salutation  with  the  utmost  composure.  "What 
a  nice  morning  after  the  storm !  Astrid  says  the  lilac 
is  out." 

Astrid  rose  from  the  floor,  shook  out  her  skirt,  and 
held  out  her  hand  with  a  smile.  "  Yes,  both  the  pur- 
ple and  the  white,"  she  announced  with  triumph. 

Oliver  sat  down  puzzled.  The  two  were  so  serene, 
so  comfortable  together,  they  might  have  been  the  most 
harmonious  of  home  parties,  and  had  it  not  been  for  the 
murmured  voices  which  he  had  surprised  at  so  late  an 
hour  over-night,  he  would  have  felt  sure  that  Astrid 
had  altogether  failed  to  realise  the  significance  of  Viv- 
ien and  her  arrival.  As  it  was,  he  doubted.  His  gaze 
travelled  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  ladies  of  his  fam- 
ily with  a  look  of  inquiry  which  would  have  been 
laughable  had  there  been  any  person  present  with  a 
mind  sufficiently  detached  for  laughter. 

"  Heady  for  your  tea,  Oliver  3 "  said  his  mother,  put- 
ting aside  the  paper  and  turning  to  her  duties.  "  How 
I  do  hate  pouring  out!  Astrid,  I  shall  have  to  turn 
over  this  business  to  you,  I  think.  Why  should  not  old 
age  have  its  liberties  ?  I  am  sure  we  want  some  com- 
pensation." 

"  I'll  pour  out  for  you,  with  all  the  pleasure  in  life," 
said  Astrid  blithely.  "But  I  don't  know  if  I  can 
make  such  coffee  as  you  do." 

There  was  a  new  note  in  the  voice  —  a  note  of  youth 


104      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

and  affection.  A  curious  feeling  that  the  two  women 
had  conspired  and  were  in  league  against  him,  ruffled 
his  mind.  Childishly  he  found  himself  thinking  that 
two  against  one  would  not  he  fair. 

"  What  do  you  think  has  just  come,  Oliver  ?  "  went 
on  Sybil,  with  admirable  lightness.  "  An  invitation 
from  the  Park!  It  appears  the  Faulkners  are  back, 
and  they  want  us  to  go  and  dine." 

"  What !  "  cried  Oliver,  startled  out  of  his  indiffer- 
ence. 

His  mother  looked  up  innocently.  "  Did  you  not 
know  they  were  back  ? "  she  asked. 

His  glance  flashed  upon  Astrid,  helping  herself  to 
bacon  with  complete  calm.  Then  his  mother  really 
did  not  know  of  Vivien's  attack  upon  the  fortress? 

"  O  yes,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  knew  they  were  back," 
he  said  as  naturally  as  he  could.  "  I  saw  the  luggage 
going  up  the  village.  But  this  seems  very  rapid." 

His  mother  lifted  the  note  at  her  side  and  read  aloud : 

"  I  have  just  learned,  with  equal  surprise  and 
pleasure,  of  your  son's  marriage.  Mr.  Selby  came 
in  last  night  after  dinner  to  smoke  with  my  hus- 
band, and  he  says  your  daughter-in-law  is  charm- 
ing. The  days  before  Viv's  wedding  are  so  few, 
there  is  no  time  for  ceremony.  Will  you  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Oliver  give  us  the  pleasure  of  your  com- 
pany on  Thursday  to  dinner,  to  meet  Mr.  Railton, 
our  future  son-in-law  ?  " 

The  reader  made  a  moment's  pause  and  went  on 
easily.  "  Very  kind !  and  very  flattering  to  Astrid. 
The  Park  patronage  will  make  you  quite  the  fashion, 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      105 

young  woman!  But  I  fear  Thursday  is  a  bad  day 
for  you,  Oil,  isn't  it?  I  think  there  is  a  meeting  of 
Directors,  or  something." 

She  ceased;  as  one  who  has  opened  the  gate  of  re- 
treat steps  aside  to  let  the  fugitive  slip  past.  Oliver 
did  not  rush  through,  as  she  expected.  He  said  noth- 
ing for  a  minute  or  two. 

It  was  a  trying  minute  to  Sybil,  but  she  carried  it 
off  easily.  The  cat  had  leaped  upon  Astrid's  shoulders, 
and  the  disentanglement  of  it  kept  her  conveniently 
occupied. 

"  I  think,"  observed  the  master  of  the  house  at  last, 
"  that  I  had  better  chuck  the  meeting,  and  take  you 
both  to  the  Park.  As  I  believe  Astrid  knows,  I  was 
once  engaged  to  Miss  Faulkner  for  some  weeks,  and 
if  I  refuse  this,  they  will  probably  suppose  that  I  am 
sulking.  What  do  you  think,  Mums  ?  " 

It  was  Sybil's  turn  to  be  taken  aback,  but  she  rallied 
in  fine  form.  "  I  think  you  are  perfectly  right,  if  the 
meeting  can  be  chucked,  as  you  so  elegantly  put  it. 
Then  shall  I  accept,  for  all  three  of  us?  I  will  own 
that  I  am  dying  to  behold  Mr.  Railton." 

If  this  was  a  game  of  bluff,  the  editor  would  show 
that  he  could  play  it  too.  "Perhaps,"  he  suggested, 
"  it  will  be  dangerous  to  let  Astrid  see  the  man  who 
has  already  supplanted  me  with  one  lady  ? " 

The  daring  of  this  took  away  his  mother's  breath. 
Astrid  was  ready,  however. 

"What  I  think  of  him  won't  matter  much,  as  he 
is  sure  to  think  nothing  of  me,"  she  remarked  with  a 
twinkle. 

"  Indeed !  And  may  I  ask  why  ?  "  cried  Sybil,  feel- 
ing all  the  value  of  an  alliance. 


106     A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"  Is  it  necessary  to  ask  ? "  said  Astrid,  still  with  the 
same  provoking  little  half  smile.  "  Have  another  ris- 
sole, Oliver  ? " 

He  held  out  his  plate.  In  spite  of  yesterday,  he 
had  slept  well  and  was  eating  his  breakfast  with  some 
appetite.  He  could  not  explain  himself  to  himself. 
As  to  his  love  tragedy,  he  felt  that  a  reaction  must 
come,  a  moment  when  his  present  numbness  would  pass, 
and  he  would  feel  all  the  pain.  But  meanwhile  he 
was  conscious  of  a  resentful  and  vexed  curiosity  as  to 
the  state  of  things  between  his  wife  and  his  mother. 

Was  their  innocence  simulated  or  real  ? 

Once  more  there  floated  across  his  mind  the  memory 
of  the  conversation  he  had  interrupted  over-night.  But 
whatever  line  his  mother  might  have  taken  he  felt  sure 
she  had  not  reproached  Astrid  with  her  behaviour  to 
himself;  for  his  wife's  aspect  was  by  no  means  chas- 
tened, neither  was  it  apologetic.  She  seemed  happier 
and  more  at  ease  than  he  had  seen  her  since  their  en- 
gagement. 

He  went  to  town  so  much  intrigued  that  he  had  lit- 
tle leisure  for  the  contemplation  of  his  own  woe. 


CHAPTER  XI 

I  thank  you  that  you  taught  me  the  stern  truth 
None  other  could  have  told,  and  I  believed; 
That  vain  had  been  my  life,  and  I  deceived, 
And  wasted  all  the  purpose  of  my  youth! 

A.  A.  PBQCTEB. 

CALVERT  EAILTON  stood  on  the  long  verandah  which 
runs  round  the  south  and  west  sides  of  Thackridge 
Park.  It  was  a  mild  evening,  and,  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  he  stood  smoking  the  cigarette  which  in- 
variably preceded  dinner  in  his  day's  routine. 

His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  darkening  landscape 
which  lay  under  his  gaze,  beyond  the  grounds.  His 
expression  was  preoccupied,  and  not  very  content. 

Through  the  long  window,  with  a  rustling  of  Parisian 
skirts,  came  his  mother-in-law  to  be.  Lady  Faulkner 
was  of  those  women  who  remain  to  their  lives'  end,  hope- 
lessly "  parvenu."  It  has  been  said  that  a  woman 
may  conquer  society  from  the  slums,  but  never  from  a 
suburb.  Do  what  you  would  with  her  ladyship  —  dress 
her  by  Paquin,  hire  the  best  of  maids  for  her  coiffure 
—  she  suggested  back  parlours  and  high  tea. 

"  Come  now,  Calvert,"  said  she  briskly.     "  Haven't 
you  got  over  your  sulk  yet  ? "     There  was  a  melting 
of  the  voice  over  the  pronunciation  of  the  word  "  now.' 
It  was  not  broadly  "  naow,"  but  it  suggested  that  fatal 
and  unfailing  sign  of  origin. 

Railton  tossed  away  his  cigarette  into  a  bed  of  tulips. 
"  What's  the  matter  with  me,  anyway  ?  w  he  asked,  put- 
ting his  hands  into  his  pockets  and  facing  her. 

107 


108      A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

She  was  a  little  taken  aback.  "  Sir  Charles  told  me 
you  were  angry  because  I  have  asked  the  Brendons  to 
dinner." 

"  I  think  it  was  an  almighty  silly  thing  to  do,  if  I 
may  say  so." 

"  Calvert,  I  think  I  know  better  than  you  in  this 
matter!  There  was  an  engagement;  and,  though  I 
took  her  away  out  of  his  reach  as  soon  as  I  possibly 
could,  still  there  is  no  doubt  the  engagement  was  known 
all  over  Thackridge.  You  would  think  that  Brendon's 
horrid  conduct  —  his  having  married  so  soon  —  ought 
to  have  disillusioned  Vivi  quite  completely.  Yet  you 
know  that  ever  since  we  came  home  she  has  been  un- 
settled, unsatisfactory.  You  and  I  have  discussed  it. 
Very  well,  then!  To-night  she  sees  his  wife,  actually 
there,  actually  married  to  him.  They  meet  in  a  room 
full  of  people  —  the  first  awkwardness  is  over.  She 
must  realise  that  the  thing  is  final,  and  she  will  settle 
down.  It's  her  conscience  that  has  been  troubling  her. 
She's  young,  she's  afraid  she  behaved  badly.  Well,  let 
Thackridge  see  that  even  if  she  did,  young  Brendon 
has  behaved  worse!  The  man  can't  have  been  worth 
caring  about.  Let  her  meet  him  once,  face  to  face,  and 
his  wife  beside  him  —  she  must  be  convinced  that  the 
thing  is  final." 

Railton  see-sawed  on  his  feet  as  he  considered  this. 
"  It  sounds  all  right,"  he  said  at  last,  in  his  deliberate 
drawl.  "  But  if  I'd  been  asked  that  young  man's  place 
in  the  scheme  of  things  just  now,  I'd  have  guessed  the 
background,  right  away.  He  has  a  most  uncanny  in- 
fluence over  my  little  girl ;  and  badly  as  I  want  her,  I'd 
like  to  have  her  make  up  her  mind  first." 

"  You're  right  about  the  uncanny  influence,"  returned 
the  lady  eagerly.  "  It  was  always  just  that. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      109 

She  never  was  in  love  with  him  —  how  could  she  be? 
They  have  not  an  idea  in  common.  It  was  heart-break- 
ing to  see  him  taking  her  to  look  at  the  works  of  Old 
Masters  and  the  poor  child  trying  to  pretend  they 
interested  her!  Vivi  has  plenty  of  wits,  but  her 
brains  would  go  into  my  thimble!  She  is  suited  to 
you  exactly,  but  not  to  that  solemn  prig  of  a  Bren- 
don." 

"  It's  me  she's  going  to  marry,  anyway,"  rejoined 
the  man  shortly,  untroubled  to  all  appearance  by  this 
somewhat  back-handed  compliment. 

He  was  a  thick-set,  bull-necked  fellow,  with  sandy 
hair  and  brick-red  complexion ;  but  there  was  something 
pleasant  in  his  appearance.  His  grey  eyes  were  small, 
but  very  clear  and  steady.  There  was  power  about 
him. 

"  I  don't  altogether  understand  Vivi,  I  own,"  went 
on  Lady  Faulkner  meditatively.  "  All  the  voyage 
home,  I  made  sure  she  was  fretting.  I  thought  her 
father  most  unwise  to  insist  upon  her  coming  home 
to  be  married.  I  quite  expected  there  would  be  some 
sort  of  a  scene  with  her.  But,  you  see,  she  has  never 
even  tried  to  see  him,  or  mentioned  his  name.  The 
only  time  she  has  ever  spoken  of  it,  was  the  night  that 
Dan  Selby  came  in  and  blurted  out  about  the  marriage. 
Vivi  never  turned  a  hair;  and  when  I  said,  t  Well, 
this  is  surprising,'  she  said  to  me,  '  I  don't  see  that  it's 
any  more  surprising  than  what  I  have  done.'  You 
would  have  expected  her  to  be  a  bit  taken  aback.  I  am 
sure  I  was.  I  think  Sir  Charles  was,  too.  But  not  a 
bit  of  it !  She  didn't  seem  to  care." 

"  She  did  care,  though.  She  has  been  so  contrary 
this  week,  it  has  taken  every  bit  of  what  I  feel  for 
her  to  tide  me  through  it,  so  I  tell  you.  The  sooner 


110      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

she  is  married  and  out  of  it  all,  the  better  for  us  both." 
There  was  a  ring  of  stern  resolve  in  his  voice  which 
made  her  ladyship  quail.  She  had  always  quailed  be- 
fore him,  from  the  very  first.  She  had  been  his  tool. 
Now,  the  thought  of  having  made  a  mistake,  of  having 
incurred  his  displeasure,  was  beyond  measure  disturb- 
ing. 

"  Calvert,  you  will  see  I  have  done  the  wisest  thing. 
It  is  partly  for  the  sake  of  the  neighbourhood,  partly 
for  your  sake,  partly  for  the  sake  of  poor  Mrs.  Brendon. 
I  hear  all  kinds  of  rumours  about  this  girl  he  has  mar- 
ried in  such  a  hurry.  The  mother  is  countenancing  her, 
however,  and  if  I  do,  everybody  in  Thackridge  will  fol- 
low suit.  They  must.  That  is  doing  a  kindness,  and 
at  the  same  time  showing  there  is  no  ill-feeling  between 
us  and  the  Abbot's  House.  If  we  not  only  do  all  this, 
but  set  the  child's  mind  at  rest  for  ever,  you  will  admit 
that  we  have  accomplished  something." 

He  looked  weary.  "  Anyway,  it's  too  late  to  get  dis- 
cussing the  thing,  ten  minutes  before  the  arrival  of  our 
guests,"  he  replied  with  a  sigh.  "  Yesterday  I  hoped 
Vivi  was  going  to  solve  the  difficulty  by  being  too  ill  to 
appear.  She  told  me  she  thought  she  would  likely  be 
in  for  one  of  her  worst  headaches.  But  to-day  she 
seems  to  have  changed  her  mind,  so  I  suppose  the  only 
way  is  to  see  this  thing  through." 

As  he  spoke,  Vivien  herself  suddenly  ran  out  upon 
the  terrace  from  the  window  of  the  further  drawing- 
room. 

Her  white  chiffon  dress,  and  the  wisps  of  turquoise 
gauze  twisted  in  her  hair  and  about  her  waist,  gave 
her  more  of  an  old-picture  aspect  than  ever.  She  was 
smiling,  her  eyes  were  large  and  starry,  and  red  spots 
burned  in  her  thin  cheeks.  She  looked  like  a  fragile 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      111 

child  —  or  even  like  a  dream.  There  was  something 
unsubstantial  about  her. 

"  Calvert,"  she  cried,  "  Chauncey  has  come  round  to 
know  what  time  we  want  the  motor  to-morrow!  Why, 
what  are  you  and  mamma  conspiring  about?  You 
both  look  so  guilty !  Were  you  talking  about  me  ?  " 

She  approached,  and  halted  just  beyond  hands'  reach, 
like  a  butterfly  about  to  take  wing. 

"  What  should  we  be  talking  about,  except  you, 
Vivi  ? "  said  her  lover  with  a  smile.  He  spoke  with 
an  air  of  calm  proprietorship,  carefully  assumed  to 
cover  the  fact  of  his  knowledge  of  the  insecurity  of  his 
tenure. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  were  saying,"  she  demanded, 
with  a  stamp  of  her  foot. 

"  Calvert  was  saying  that  you  felt  unwell  yesterday, 
darling,  but  that  you  seemed  better  to-day,"  said  her 
mother  fondly.  "  Indeed  you  look  lovely,  but  don't 
come  out  here  in  those  thin  clothes,  it  isn't  prudent. 
Make  her  go  in,  Calvert." 

Calvert  moved  forward.  He  had  only  to  do  so  to 
ensure  her  backing,  swiftly,  tantalisingly,  and  always 
smiling,  in  through  the  windows  of  the  room. 

"  Well,  I'm  the  picture  of  health,"  declared  Vivien. 
"  But  for  goodness  sake,  Calvert,  do  go  and  tell  Chaun- 
cey  what  time  you  are  starting." 

"  That  all  depends  upon  what  time  you  are  starting," 
he  replied  steadily.  She  stood  hesitating,  swinging  a 
little  bag  which  she  held  by  a  long  blue  ribbon.  He 
was  absorbed  in  noticing  the  violet  hollows  under  her 
large,  lustrous  eyes. 

"  We'd  better  say  eleven.  Then  you  can  have  your 
breakfast  in  bed,"  he  said  quietly,  turning  away  and 
leaving  the  room. 


112      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"  What  does  Calvert  mean  ?  Why  should  you  break- 
fast in  bed  ?  "  asked  her  mother,  surprised. 

"  Oh,  Calvert  thinks  I'm  made  of  barley  sugar,"  was 
the  petulant  reply. 

"  But  you  are  really  well,  my  darling  \ "  asked  her 
ladyship,  with  solicitude. 

"  Never  better  in  my  life,"  said  Vivien  defiantly. 

Ten  minutes  later,  most  people  had  arrived.  It  was 
a  party  composed  of  the  more  intimate  friends  of  the 
Park,  and  included  the  Selbys.  The  family  from  the 
Abbot's  House  arrived,  as  it  chanced,  last. 

Sybil  had  passed  some  agitating  days,  since  Oliver's 
bravado  had  led  to  the  acceptance  of  this  invitation. 
She  wished  herself  anywhere  else  on  the  face  of  the 
earth  than  where  she  was ;  but  since  she  was  there  she 
would  carry  things  with  a  high  hand. 

Colonel  Waring  thought  she  had  never  looked  more 
distinguished,  more  herself,  more  in  control  of  the  sit- 
uation than  she  did  when  she  entered,  and  shook  the 
hand  of  the  woman  to  whom  she  owed  the  wreck  of  her 
son's  life. 

Lady  Faulkner  was  not  sensitive  to  nuances,  but  even 
she  perceived  a  part  of  the  scorn  which  underlay  the 
gentle  manner.  The  hostess  looked  with  a  queer  eager- 
ness at  Oliver  as  he  followed  his  mother.  There  was 
usually  but  little  likeness  between  the  mother  and  son 
in  face.  To-night,  however,  it  seemed  marked.  He 
came  forward  with  a  naturalness  which  the  flustered 
lady  could  not  hope  to  imitate,  and  presented  her  to  a 
girl  in  white  silk,  with  pale  cloudy  hair  and  deep  eyes. 
She  had  time  to  note  that  the  bride  was  wearing  her 
mother-in:law's  famous  necklace  of  carved  white  corne- 
lian gems,  in  setting  of  Eastern  gold.  She  felt  that 
her  greeting  was  not  natural.  It  was  unnecessarily 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      113 

cordial,  it  struck  the  wrong  note.  It  almost  seemed  to 
say,  "  I  am  so  much  obliged  to  you  for  making  an 
unsuitable  match  once  for  all  impossible." 

Mrs.  Oliver  Brendon's  answering  smile  had  an  aloof- 
ness which  to  her  overstrained  nerves  seemed  almost 
like  contempt.  By  the  time  she  had  finished  all  the 
greetings,  Lady  Faulkner  had  decided  that  Calvert  was 
quite  right.  The  dinner  was  a  mistake. 

Calvert's  eyes,  meanwhile,  never  left  Vivien.  She 
was  acutely,  hatefully  conscious  of  it.  But  she  knew 
that  everybody  else  in  the  whole  room  was  likewise 
watching,  as  Oliver  slowly  made  his  way  to  her,  and 
stood  at  last  before  her. 

"How  do  you  do?"  he  said,  as  though  they  had 
met  yesterday.  "  Won't  you  introduce  me  to  the  lucky 
man  ?  " 

Every  one  might  mark  the  girl's  cruel  confusion. 
The  colour  flowed  in  waves  over  her  tell-tale  face  as 
she  turned  to  her  fiance,  and  summoned  him  by  a 
glance  that  seemed  to  implore  protection.  He  came 
at  once  in  swift  response,  and  she  managed  to  say  — 
"  Mr.  Railton,  Mr.  Brendon." 

Oliver  had  been  rehearsing  for  that  moment  in  a 
way  which  would  have  been  incredible  to  the  other  man. 
He  was  ready  with  exactly  the  right  thing,  said  in  pre- 
cisely the  best  way.  He  alluded  to  Mr.  Railton's  news- 
paper business  as  making  him  no  stranger  to  any  Eng- 
lish editor.  He  asked  some  trenchant  questions  about 
newspaper  owning  in  America  —  questions  which 
showed  his  knowledge  and  intelligence.  Then,  with  a 
swift  recalling  of  the  necessary  forms,  he  turned  again 
with  a  cordial  smile  to  Vivien,  whose  complexion  had 
quieted  down,  and  said: 

"  And  now  you  must  let  me  present  my  wife," 


114      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

So  bewildered  was  Vivien  that  she  had  almost  said 
aloud  in  her  desperation,  "  But  I  have  met  your  wife 
already."  As  the  words  hovered  on  her  lips  she  recol- 
lected that  all  knowledge  of  her  disastrous  appearance 
at  the  Abbot's  House  must  be  suppressed.  The  attack, 
her  barely  averted  slip,  the  memories  of  that  awful 
moment,  rushed  upon  her  together  and  almost  broke  her 
down.  The  whole  company  might  see  her  distress,  her 
tear-filled  eyes,  her  changing  colour,  as  she  awkwardly 
and  with  confusion  greeted  Astrid. 

Her  emotion  was  in  no  sense  shared  by  Oliver's  wife. 
To  him,  the  composure  of  the  shy,  inexperienced  girl 
he  had  married  was  like  a  miracle.  He  had  not  said 
one. word  to  her  as  to  her  conduct  on  this  occasion.  He 
had  not  once  alluded  to  the  scene  upon  which  she  had 
intruded  last  week.  Yet,  had  she  comprehended  every 
detail  of  the  circumstances,  she  could  not  have  played 
her  part  more  perfectly. 

Her  calm  was  the  calm  of  cordiality,  or  natural, 
somewhat  reserved  courtesy.  Her  manner  was  exactly 
right,  her  appearance  far  beyond  anything  he  had  dared 
to  hope  for. 

She  was  presented  to  Mr.  Railton  also,  and  she 
greeted  him  with  a  smile  which  had  some  humour  in  it. 

"  To  meet  you  is  interesting,"  said  she,  with  the 
pretty  condescension  of  a  young  matron,  "  since  I  have 
suffered  something  at  your  unconscious  hands." 

"  That  so  ?  Explain,  do  please,"  said  Calvert,  con- 
scious of  sudden  interest. 

"  For  my  sins  I  had  to  make  a  precis,  for  publica- 
tion, of  your  exposition  of  the  new  International  Copy- 
right laws,"  she  replied,  with  a  low  laugh.  "  My  re- 
spect for  your  intellect  amounts  to  positive  awe." 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      115 

He  smiled  with  real  gratification.  This  was  his 
hobby.  "  Well,  I  admit  to  being  a  bit  wrapped  up  in 
the  International  Copyright  question,"  he  owned. 
"  And  you  made  a  precis  of  my  Berne  speech  3  I  wish 
I  had  seen  it." 

"  I  expect  you  did.     It  appeared  in  the  Penman." 

He  looked  earnestly  at  her.  "  Was  that  yours  ?  "  he 
said  thoughtfully. 

"But  the  person  you  really  ought  to  talk  to  is  Mr. 
Selby,"  went  on  Astrid  easily.  "  Here  he  comes  — 
Mr.  Selby  the  novelist,  you  know.  I  heard  him  say- 
ing some  astonishingly  unkind  things  about  American 
newspaper  owners  the  other  day,  and  I  think  you  ought 
to  set  him  right.  Mr.  Selby,"  as  Dan  approached  — 
"  Have  you  realised  that  this  is  the  Mr.  Railton  of  the 
great  Berne  speech  on  Copyright  ? " 

Oliver  had  dropped  his  pretence  of  conversing  with 
Vivien,  in  order  to  listen.  Completely  though  his  wife 
had  baffled  him  hitherto,  at  least  she  was  doing  his  will 
that  evening.  At  least  he  was  reaping  to  its  last  ear 
the  harvest  of  the  peculiar  kind  of  vengeance  he  had 
determined  to  take  upon  Vivien.  He  was  sensible  of  a 
curious  uplifting,  a  sense  of  having  achieved  something 
rather  wonderful.  Afterwards  —  after  this  evening  — 
he  would  have  demonstrated  to  Vivien  his  independence 
of  her,  his  strength,  his  sovereignty,  and  then  .  .  . 
then  he  would  have  time  and  to  spare  in  which  to  gather 
misery's  aftermath.  Just  now,  he  was  controlling  the 
situation,  and  exultation  shut  out  other  feeling. 

He  looked  at  Vivien's  face,  he  marked  the  violet 
hollows  beneath  her  eyes.  He  knew  she  suffered,  and 
he  had  an  insane  desire  to  laugh  aloud  and  snap  his 
fingers  in  Railton's  face.  The  signs  of  weakness  in 


116      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

Vivien  appealed  to  the  innermost  fibres  of  him,  just 
as  the  self-reliant  strength  of  his  wife  repelled  him  at 
the  moment. 

She  stood  now  between  Selby  and  Railton,  and  they 
both  talked  to  her.  With  one  adroit  stroke  she  had 
brought  together  two  men  with  a  kindred  interest,  and 
had  handed  them  their  pet  subject  to  play  with. 

Their  keenness  in  their  topic  was  joined  to  their 
pleasure  in  her  society.  Each  of  the  two  was  lament- 
ing inwardly  that  the  exigencies  of  custom  would  oblige 
their  host  to  take  in  the  bride  to  dinner. 

The  table,  needless  to  say,  was  so  arranged  that 
Oliver  and  Vivien  were  widely  separated.  Each 
seemed  to  be  in  unusually  good  spirits.  It  was  a  viva- 
cious dinner,  which,  at  the  Park,  was  rather  a  wonder. 
Sir  Charles  was  pompous  and  her  ladyship  uncertain, 
so  that,  as  a  rule,  the  social  atmosphere  was  not  inspir- 
ing. To-night,  however,  both  Railton  and  Oliver  were 
sparkling;  and  Dan  Selby,  who  sat  after  all,  to  his  joy, 
on  the  bride's  other  side,  was  in  his  happiest  vein. 
Vivien  too  was  full  of  talk,  feverishly  merry.  Oliver 
hardly  took  his  eyes  off  her  during  dinner. 

Colonel  Waring  was  Sybil's  neighbour  at  table.  So 
loud  was  the  general  conversation  and  so  frequent  the 
laughter,  that  presently  under  cover  of  it  he  ventured 
upon  intimate  affairs. 

"  Well,  how  goes  it  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  dropped  voice. 

She  looked  at  him  as  a  woman  looks  at  a  man  whom 
she  trusts  with  very  private  matters.  "  I  would  tell 
you  if  I  could,  but  I  am  completely  in  the  dark.  He 
is  more  and  more  a  sealed  book  to  me.  He  seems  to 
have  fallen  so  far  and  so  fast,  that  I  catch  myself  think- 
ing that,  come  what  may,  he  never  could  be  worthy  of 
the  girl  he  has  married." 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      117 

"I  always  thought  you  a  remarkable  woman,"  he 
replied,  "but  now  I  am  convinced  you  are  unique. 
This  is  your  only  son,  dear  lady  —  you  say  such  a  thing 
of  your  only  son?" 

'  Yes,  of  the  son  of  the  man  I  always  thought  one 
of  the  best  in  the  world,"  she  murmured.  "  As  to  As- 
trid,  I  am  completely  in  her  confidence.  We  con- 
sulted together  the  other  day,  and  decided  upon  a  plan 
of  action.  It  was  a  very  difficult  one,  but  sa  far  she 
is  carrying  it  out  with  a  nerve,  a  brilliance,  which  is 
truly  wonderful.  The  disappointing  thing  is  that  it  is 
not  succeeding.  There  is  no  sign  at  all  of  any  awak- 
ening tenderness  for  her  in  his  manner." 

He  reflected  awhile.  "You  think  that  she  is  really 
desirous  of  winning  him  over  ?  " 

Sybil  hesitated.  "What  can  one  do?  They  are 
married.  Is  it  not  best  to  try  and  find  a  modus  vi- 
vendi?" 

"  I  have  been  thinking  that  perhaps  the  fact  of  your 
being  there  is  against  the  rapprochement  you  desire," 
said  the  Colonel  presently,  having  waited  for  the  shel- 
ter of  a  burst  of  laughter. 

"  You  mean  that  I  ought  to  turn  them  out  ?  I  don't 
think  the  moment  has  arrived.  If  I  see  that  he  is  at- 
tracted, that  his  view-point  is  changed,  or  changing  — 
then  I  shall  announce  that  I  am  going  to  fill  the  house 
with  visitors,  and  they  must  go." 

"  And  what  will  you  do  when  they  are  both  gone  ?  " 
he  persisted,  looking  directly  at  her. 

It  is,  however,  easy  to  avoid  meeting  a  look  when 
you  are  eating  your  dinner.  Sybil  showed  no  signs  of 
perceiving  the  drift  of  this  conversation.  "  I  never 
have  suffered  from  ennui,"  she  replied,  "  so  why  should 
I  now?" 


118      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"  They  might  have  my  house,"  observed  the  Colonel 
thoughtfully. 

She  smiled  the  least  bit  in  the  world.  "  Are  you  go- 
ing to  leave  ? " 

"  I  expect  I  shall  have  to,  if  you  won't,"  he  rejoined 
sturdily.  "  I  don't  anticipate  persuading  you  into  quit- 
ting the  beloved  Abbot's  House," 

"  You  told  me  I  was  unique  just  now.  Permit  me 
to  return  the  compliment.  This  is  the  first  proposal 
I  have  ever  received  at  the  dinner-table." 

"  At  least  you  can't  put  an  end  to  my  importunities 
by  getting  up  and  going  away.  You  must  sit  still  long 
enough  to  look  at  the  thing  coolly." 

"  Coolly  indeed !  The  coolness  belongs  to  you,  I 
think." 

"  Don't  talk  as  if  it  was  the  first  time  the  thing  has 
happened,  dear  woman." 

"  It's  the  first  time  for  ever  so  long,"  returned  Sybil 
defiantly. 

"  Exactly,  because  I  realised  that  so  long  as  Oliver, 
the  idol,  was  on  his  pedestal,  I  had  very  little  chance. 
My  time  had  not  come.  Now  —  now  may  I  be  for- 
given if  I  say  that  I  think  it  has  ?  " 

She  leaned  back,  absently  crumbling  her  toast,  and 
noting  that  the  preoccupation  of  everybody  with  the  two 
young  couples,  left  the  elderly  pair  quite  unobserved. 
"  If  I  could  be  satisfied  that  it  was  my  duty,"  she  slowly 
murmured,  "  but  I'm  not ;  and,"  with  a  swift  smile, 
"  it  is  certainly  not  my  pleasure." 

"  Thanks,"  said  the  Colonel  grimly.  "  I  am  pretty 
well  aware  of  the  fact,  after  all  these  years.  But  let 
us  leave  it  like  this.  You  may  possibly  want  me  as  a 
weapon  in  dealing  with  these  extraordinary  young  peo- 
ple. If  you  do  want  me  —  use  me  without  scruple. 


A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE      119 

At  any  moment  that  you  may  want  to  say  — '  You  must 
be  out  of  the  house  in  a  month,  for  I  am  going  to  marry 
old  Waring,  and  he  won't  stand  a  joint  menage ' — 
why,  say  it,  and  I  shall  have  enormous  pleasure  in  back- 
ing you  up." 

"  Well,  Walter,  I  don't  think  it's  likely,"  she  slowly 
responded,  "  but  I  won't  say  it  is  wholly  impossible." 

"  Good." 

"  Only  I  do  not  intend  to  desert  the  poor  child. 
Oliver  picked  her  up  for  his  own  base  purpose,  and  now 
he  must  not  drop  her  again.  My  idea  was,  to  forge  a 
chain  about  him  which,  when  it  came  to  the  point, 
he  would  find  he  did  not  want  to  break.  But  I  fear 
now  that  it  is  of  no  use.  He  is,  definitely,  not  at  all 
attracted.  Even  to-day,  when  she  is  playing  so  glori- 
ously into  his  hands  —  when  she  is  straining  every 
nerve  to  look  and  be  all  that  she  knows  he  wants  — 
I  detect  a  hateful,  selfish  satisfaction  in  him  —  not  one 
gleam  of  pity !  Not  one  spark  of  kindness !  " 


CHAPTER  XII 

On  entry  I  set  down 

The  lamp,  and  turning  saw  whose  rustled  gown 
Had  told  me  my  wife  followed,  pace  for  pace. 
Each  of  us  looked  the  other  in  the  face. 
She  spoke. —  R.  BBOWNING. 

THE  Park  was  so  near  the  Abbot's  House  that,  the 
night  being  fine,  the  Brendons  made  the  short  transit 
on  foot,  the  Colonel  accompanying  them  as  far  as  their 
gate. 

They  walked  all  abreast,  and  the  Colonel  chatted 
cheerfully.  Oliver  did  not  open  his  lips. 

When  his  mother  and  Astrid  had  gone  upstairs,  he 
went  into  his  study  and  switched  on  the  light. 

Closing  the  door,  he  walked  with  bent  head  to  the 
table,  poured  a  dose  of  whisky  into  a  tumbler,  and  held 
it  to  the  syphon. 

Setting  it  down,  he  turned  to  the  mantelpiece,  found 
his  pipe,  filled  it  absently,  struck  a  match  and  lit  it. 

Then  approaching  the  table,  he  let  himself  drop  into 
his  chair,  and  pushed  about  the  letters  which  lay  on 
his  blotter,  not  opening  any. 

Vivien's  face  came  between  him  and  any  sense  of 
outward  objects:  —  her  pallor;  her  nervousness;  the 
appeal  in  her  eyes  when  he  had  bid  her  farewell. 

In  his  headlong  rage,  he  had  spoiled  not  one  woman's 
life,  but  two.  If  he  had  waited !  —  if  he  had  waited. 

His  mind  would  picture  it,  would  force  upon  him 
120 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

the  idea,  the  dream  of  what  might  have  been,  but  for 
his  own  folly.  Had  he  taken  the  blow  manfully,  had 
he  held  on  upon  his  solitary  road,  leaning  upon  his 
mother's  affection  —  what  would  have  happened  upon 
a  certain  gusty,  wet  spring  evening,  when  he  had  seen 
that  vision,  through  the  half-open  drawing-room  door? 

"Look  in  my  face!     My  name  is  Might-have-been! 
I  am  also  called  No  more!     Too  Late!     Farewell!  " 

His  self-esteem  was  so  deeply  wounded  that  he  did 
not  recognise  himself.  In  taking  up  Astrid,  as  a 
weapon,  wherewith  to  wound  Vivien,  he  had  indeed 
grasped  a  sword,  but  he  had  grasped  it  by  the  blade, 
and  it  had  cut  him  to  the  bone. 

He  could  not  forgive  Astrid  for  having  seen  through 
him.  He  could  not  forgive  himself  for  his  failure  to 
convince  her.  The  memory  of  the  terrible  evening  at 
Brighton,  when  he  had  realised  the  folly  of  pretence, 
the  inutility  of  it,  rankled  in  his  memory.  He  felt  that 
his  wife  despised  him.  The  result  was,  so  far,  only 
to  set  him  against  her.  There  was  a  smarting  sense 
of  grievance.  He  had  been  fond  of  Miss  Carey.  He 
had  honestly  hoped  that  she  might  make  him  feel  less 
humiliated.  The  day  when  he  asked  her  to  marry  him, 
and  felt  her  in  his  arms  —  he  had  told  himself  that 
here  at  least  was  devotion  —  here  was  something  to 
fall  back  upon,  a  refuge  from  his  torment  of  loss  and 
mortification.  But  he  had  never  recaptured  the  mo- 
ment. If  he  had  thought  of  it  now,  he  would  per- 
haps have  felt  glad  that  so  it  had  been  —  that  he  and 
Astrid  were  naught  to  each  other,  and  never  could  be. 
But  to-night,  there  was  no  thought  of  Astrid.  She  was 
not  above  his  horizon.  All  of  him  was  centred  in  the 
awful  thought  of  Vivien's  unhappiness. 


132      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

When  he  heard  a  light  tap  upon  his  study  door,  he 
did  not  even  speculate  as  to  who  it  might  be.  He  said 
"  Who's  there  ? "  without  detaching  his  mind  at  all 
from  what  was  absorbing  it  wholly ;  and  when  in  reply 
to  the  question,  the  door  opened  and  he  saw  Astrid,  he 
frowned,  not  because  it  was  she,  but  because  it  was  some- 
thing, anything,  which  broke  in  upon  his  misery. 

There  was  something  in  her  expression,  however, 
which  gave  him  a  moment's  anxiety.  The  repelling  in- 
difference of  her  usual  manner  was  gone.  She  looked 
deprecating,  not  sure  of  herself. 

All  his  instincts  sprang  up  then  in  self-defence.  Was 
she  about  to  make  some  kind  of  appeal  to  him  ?  If  so, 
she  had  indeed  chosen  the  wrong  moment ! 

"  May  I  speak  to  you  for  a  few  minutes  ?  "  she  asked 
timidly. 

"  Er  —  of  course."  He  was  not  aware  of  the  un- 
friendliness his  voice  conveyed. 

Painfully  affected  by  that  hostile  note,  the  girl  wav- 
ered a  moment;  then,  closing  the  door,  as  if  deciding 
that  having  come,  she  might  as  well  go  through  with 
the  rest,  she  seated  herself  at  the  table,  facing  him. 

"  I'm  sorry  if  I  disturb  you.  I  would  not  speak  to- 
night, but  I  have  to  make  a  decision.  Work  has  been 
offered  me,  and  I  must  either  accept  or  decline  it." 

"  Indeed !  "  he  replied,  almost  mechanically.  His 
alarm  had  been  groundless.  This  was  something  quite 
trivial,  nothing  to  disgust  or  to  freeze  him.  Uncon- 
sciously, his  released  interest  flew  back  upon  its  own 
concerns.  What  was  it  that  Vivien  had  been  going  to 
say,  there  in  the  hall,  when  they  were  taking  leave  — 
when  she  had  made  a  step  forward,  and  paused  upon 
finding  Railton  clqse  at  hand?  But  he  must  collect 
his  thoughts,  Astrid  was  once  more  speaking. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      123 

"  I  promised,  you  remember,  to  wait  a  month.  Now 
the  month  is  up." 

The  words  stiffened  him.  Was  this  an  appeal,  after 
all?  His  mouth  hardened. 

"Mr.  Selby  would  like  me  to  become  his  secretary. 
His  sister  has  hitherto  worked  for  him,  but  she,  as 
you  know,  is  to  be  married.  They  want  me  to  begin 
at  once,  so  that  Miss  Selby  will  be  there  to  show  me 
her  ways,  and  also  that  she  may  be  set  free  to  give 
more  time  to  her  own  preparations.  I  should  like  to 
try,  if  you  have  no  objection." 

Was  this  all?  He  could  only  feel  that  his  indiffer- 
ence was  complete.  "  You  really  think  you  would  like 
it  ? "  he  inquired,  but  not  as  though  his  attention  was 
fully  fixed. 

"  I  think  I  should.  It  —  it  would  be  something  to 
occupy  my  mind.  But  there  is  a  difficulty.  They  are 
planning  to  start,  in  a  few  days,  upon  a  caravan  tour; 
and  as  Mr.  Selby  always  works  when  on  these  tours,  I 
should  be  wanted  to  go  with  them." 

She  paused,  embarrassed.  She  did  not  like  to  add, 
"  You  might  not  wish  that,"  or  "  Would  it  have  an 
odd  appearance  for  me  to  go  away  without  you  ? " 

Evidently  the  point  did  not  strike  him. 

"  Well,"  he  said  dully,  "  why  not  ? " 

For  the  first  time  she  lifted  her  eyes  directly  to  his, 
and  gave  him  one  look.  He  was  unaware.  Though 
his  head  was  raised,  and  he  faced  her,  he  did  not  see 
her.  The  effort  which,  urged  by  his  mother,  she  had 
so  laboriously  made,  had  failed  to  this  humiliating  ex- 
tent. 

"  Then  I  have  your  leave  to  say  '  yes '  ? "  she  asked, 
trying  to  keep  the  indignation  from  her  voice,  as  she 
rose  from  her  seat. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"  My  leave  ?  "  he  repeated,  with  a  curled  lip. 

Here  was  a  touch  of  feeling  —  a  suggestion  of  her 
having  broken  through  the  wall  of  his  indifference. 
Her  tongue  trembled  with  the  things  she  might  say. 
She  choked  them  back.  She  dare  not  let  loose  any 
flood-gates.  The  distance  between  them  must  be  pre- 
served, all  must  be  cold  and  formal. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  have  troubled  you  with  anything  so 
trifling,"  she  said,  in  a  suppressed  voice. 

But  Oliver  was  bringing  his  mind  —  just  the  surface 
of  his  mind  —  to  bear  upon  the  question  now.  He 
began  to  see  that  his  wife  was  suggesting  a  plan  which 
would  afford  him  a  certain  measure  of  relief.  Only 
that  portion  of  his  attention  was  disengaged  which  could 
bear  upon  himself,  his  own  clamorous  concerns.  The 
feeling  uppermost  at  the  moment  was  a  wish  that  he 
might  never  see  this  girl  again  as  long  as  he  lived. 
Naturally  he  could  not  say  so;  but  much  may  be  ex- 
pressed by  the  eye,  and  he  was  probably  unaware  of  the 
eloquence  of  his. 

"  I  think  it's  quite  a  good  scheme,"  he  pronounced, 
with  an  attempt  at  hearty  concurrence. 

This  then  was  the  end.  What  turned  Astrid's  re- 
buff into  an  outrage  was  the  fact  that  he  had  no  idea 
at  all  of  being  either  unfeeling  or  insulting.  Simply, 
he  could  not  take  her  into  his  consideration. 

She  saw  how  he  caught  at  the  beginning  of  a  solu- 
tion. A  separation  —  at  first  partial  and  temporary  — 
but  becoming  permanent  by  degrees,  and  a  recognised 
thing. 

The  blow  fell,  and  it  was  worse  than  she  had  ex- 
pected. Feeling  had  been  blunted,  so  she  had  believed. 
Yet  now  a  rush  of  feeling  threatened  to  undermine  her 
control.  This  house !  How  homelike  it  had  grown  in 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      125 

one  short  month !  Her  husband's  mother !  How  dear 
the  intimate  companionship.  How  much  she  had 
learned,  how  incredibly  sweet  it  had  seemed  to  receive 
womanly  kisses,  to  be  enfolded  in  motherly  arms,  after 
so  long  and  empty  an  orphanhood. 

It  was  over.  She  suggested  separation  and  he  caught 
gratefully  at  the  idea.  It  needed  a  wrestle  with  herself 
to  enable  her  to  command  a  quiet  voice.  Surprise  had 
begun  to  succeed  the  relief  in  his  face,  when  she  said: 

"  I  am  glad  you  see  no  objections  to  my  plan.  Good 
night.  Sorry  to  have  disturbed  you." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right.  Settle  things  as  you  like,  and 
come  to  me  for  funds,  you  know,  of  course." 

He  rose,  and  crossing  the  room,  opened  the  door  for 
her.  She  had  been  in  act  to  go,  so  it  was  a  piece  of 
mere  courtesy.  Its  effect,  however,  was  that  of  a  per- 
emptory dismissal. 

It  was  so  awful  to  Astrid  that  only  his  own  complete 
absorption  saved  her  from  exposure.  Her  whole  body 
was  shaking  with  the  feeling  she  could  hardly  curb,  as 
she  slipped  past  him  and  made  her  escape.  The  mo- 
ment she  heard  the  door  close  she  took  to  her  heels  and 
ran,  her  handkerchief  to  her  mouth  to  muffle  the  gasp- 
ing sobs ;  stumbling  blindly  up  the  stairs,  pausing  mid- 
way while  she  fought  back  a  paroxysm,  and  then  up 
again,  crawling  like  a  creature  mortally  hurt  to  the 
covert  of  her  own  room.  She  had  meant  to  go  to 
Sybil,  but  that  was  for  the  time  impossible. 

She  had  received  worse  than  curses,  worse  than  blows. 
She  had  had  to  face  complete  callousness.  For  a  time 
the  violence  of  her  own  despair  frightened  her. 

Her  disappearance  left  Oliver  puzzled.  He  had  done 
as  she  asked,  given  her  liberty  to  act  as  she  chose.  Yet 
she  had  not  seemed  pleased.  Her  manner,  however 


126      A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

quiet  and  self-contained,  was  nevertheless  quite  equal 
to  the  expression  of  pleasure  or  displeasure.  There  had 
even  been  something  hurried,  something  that  suggested 
suppressed  feeling  in  her  departure. 

It  appeared  to  him  that  she  had  suggested  the  one 
thing  that  might  bring  alleviation  of  the  strain  of  the 
present  position.  To  have  her  away  during  the  next 
week  —  the  week  in  which  Vivien  would  be  married  to 
Eailton  —  might  possibly  lessen  what  he  would  suffer. 

He  thought  over  what  she  had  said :  "  The  only 
difficulty  is  that  they  want  me  to  go  away  with  them." 
Well,  it  had  seemed  the  best  thing  she  could  possibly 
do.  Why  was  it  a  difficulty?  Now  that  he  set  his 
mind  to  the  subject,  he  perceived  that  it  is,  to  say  the 
least  of  it,  not  customary  for  the  newly  married  to  sep- 
arate within  a  month  of  marriage.  That  was  what  she 
had  in  mind.  She  did  not  want  to  put  him  in  an  un- 
pleasant position  with  regard  to  public  opinion.  He 
felt  a  little  uncomfortable  as  he  realised  that  this  had 
never  struck  him. 

He  knew  that  his  mind  had  been  only  half  fixed 
upon  Astrid  and  her  affairs.  She  had  come  upon  him 
at  an  unfortunate  moment.  With  every  desire  that 
she  should  not  suffer  unnecessarily,  he  had  yet,  in  his 
absence  of  any  real  feeling  for  her,  hurt  her  uninten- 
tionally. He  had  shown  her  that  he  was  not  seriously 
considering  the  case  she  put  before  him.  He  felt  sorry 
for  this,  sorry  and  ashamed.  He  wished  he  could  call 
her  back.  He  wanted  to  explain  to  her  that  he  had  been 
stupid.  Yet  he  did  not  know  "^hat  to  say,  nor  how  to 
say  it. 

In  his  perplexity  there  crossed  his  mind  the  memory 
of  his  mother.  She  was  an  able  woman,  a  broad-minded 
woman.  He  had  often  felt  the  benefit  of  her  advice. 


'A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      127 

Though  he  had  arrogantly  shut  her  out  from  his  coun- 
sels, flouted  her,  ignored  her,  in  the  selfishness  of  his 
agony,  yet  he  knew  he  had  not  alienated  her. 

He  knew  altogether,  with  the  insight  of  real  love, 
that  when  he  sought  her  she  would  be  there.  She  dis- 
approved of  his  whole  conduct,  she  was  utterly  disap- 
pointed in  him  —  he  conceded  all  that!  But  she  was 
his  mother ;  and  well  he  knew  that,  if  he  had  admitted 
her  to  the  inner  chamber  where  he  and  his  sorrow  sat, 
she  might  have  spared  him  the  ruin  he  had  brought 
upon  himself. 

He  admitted  that  he  did  not  understand  Astrid. 
His  mother,  oddly  enough,  did.  Why  had  he  not 
thought  before  of  begging  her  to  consider  with  him 
the  whole  matter  of  his  devastated  life? 

He  rose,  put  out  the  lamps,  and  went  upstairs  to 
Sybil's  room. 

There  was  a  light,  and  he  knocked  without  hesita- 
tion ;  but  when  he  entered  he  felt  sure  that  it  was  As- 
trid whom  she  had  expected  to  see,  and  not  himself. 

She  was  seated,  in  a  becoming  silk  wrapper,  in  an 
arm-chair,  reading,  and  to  the  flash  of  surprise  in  her 
eyes  succeeded  a  deep  concern.  "  Why,  my  boy,"  she 
said,  in  tones  of  welcome. 

He  closed  the  door  and  approached  her  with  bent 
head.  He  was  yearning  towards  her;  he  would  have 
liked  to  be  kissed  and  consoled,  as  in  the  days  of  his 
boyhood,  but  too  much  lay  between  them,  and  he  could 
not  be  natural  with  her.  There  was  a  while  of  silence. 
Sybil  knew  better  than  to  forestall  a  confidence.  She 
knew  not  what  had  prompted  her  prodigal's  unexpected 
return,  nor  what  he  had  come  to  say. 

He  sat  down,  drawing  up  a  chair  near  hers.  His 
head  was  drooped,  his  hands  hung  limply  between  his 


128      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

knees.  "  God  help  me,  what  a  fool,  what  a  scoundrel 
I've  been!" 

The  words  stirred  in  her  a  gleam  of  hope.  "  You 
need  not  despair  on  that  account,"  she  told  him  quickly. 

He  raised  his  heavy  eyes  a  moment,  and  made  an 
impatient  movement  as  if  he  were  at  his  wits'  end. 

"  But  there  is  nothing  to  be  done,"  he  said.  "  Don't 
you  feel  that  ?  There  is  simply  nothing  to  be  done." 

She  hesitated,  and  then  replied,  "  You  have  that  to 
do  which  lies  before  us  all  —  to  shoulder  the  conse- 
quences of  your  own  mistakes." 

"  If  there  were  nobody  but  me  to  suffer,"  he  said, 
and  faltered ;  then,  recovering,  he  hurried  on,  "  I  ought 
not  to  have  gone  there  to-night  It  was  a  rotten  bit 
of  bravado.  I  am  punished  for  it.  Did  you  ever  see 
anything  like  the  woe  in  Vivien's  face  ?  It  makes  — 
well,  there  are  some  things  you  can't  trust  yourself  to 
say." 

"  I  think,  too,  that  you  were  unwise  to  go,"  replied 
his  mother  pityingly. 

He  held  a  groping  hand  towards  her.  "  Mother, 
Fve  behaved  vilely  to  you.  I  have  insulted  and  ig- 
nored you.  In  spite  of  that,  I  come  to  you  for  rescue 
from  the  intolerable  mess  I  have  made  of  things.  Will 
you  help  me  ?  " 

She  took  the  hand  and  held  it  lovingly.  "  I  have 
been  doing  my  best,  Ollie,  all  this  last  month,"  she  said 
very  gently. 

"  I  know,  I  know.  But  it  is  no  good.  The  whole 
thing  has  grown  too  awful.  My  one  desire  at  this 
moment  is  to  be  quit  of  it  all.  I  feel  ready  to  make  a 
bolt  for  it,  to  drop  my  name,  sink  my  identity,  begin 
over  again,  in  some  country  where  nobody  knows  who 
I  am  or  what  I  have  done !  " 


A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE      129 

"I  can  understand  that,"  said  Sybil  tenderly. 
"But,  you  see,  a  man  cannot  repudiate  his  responsi- 
bilities." 

He  pondered  a  little  in  silence.  "Astrid  has  just 
been  in  to  speak  to  me,"  he  then  said  slowly.  "  You 
are  in  her  confidence.  I  expect  you  know  what  she 
came  to  say  ?  " 

"  To  ask  you  to  allow  her  to  be  Dan  Selby's  secre- 
tary?" 

:t  Yes.  I  behaved  like  a  brute,  as  usual.  My  mind 
was  all  astray.  I  am  afraid  I  hurt  her  feelings." 

Sybil  sighed.     "  I  am  sorry." 

"  She  said  they  wanted  her  to  go  away  with  them 
for  a  time.  It  seemed  to  me  like  a  reprieve.  I  can't 
help  thinking  it  would  be  the  best  thing  possible.  I 
didn't  consider  appearances  for  the  moment,  and  I  told 
her  she  could  do  just  as  she  liked.  But  I  want  to  know 
what  you  think.  Would  all  the  world  gossip  if  we 
were  to  separate  for  a  bit  ?  " 

Sybil  turned  the  question  over  in  her  mind.  She 
saw  that  the  present  position  was  strained  almost  to 
snapping  point,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  descried 
a  way  to  lessen  the  tension  for  a  time. 

"  Ollie,"  she  said,  "  I  have  a  suggestion  to  make.  I 
think  it  well  that  you  should  not  be  in  Thackridge  next 
week  during  the  time  of  the  wedding.  How  would  this 
do  ?  Let  Astrid  go  with  the  Selbys,  as  they  suggest, 
but  say  that  you  too  would  like  to  be  of  the  party  now 
and  again  when  you  can  get  a  day  oif.  Go  to  town,  live 
at  your  club,  so  that  it  may  seem  to  the  people  here- 
abouts that  you  are  with  your  wife ;  and  take  a  day  off 
now  and  then  to  save  appearances.  You  could  go  down 
for  a  week-end  and  stop  at  an  inn,  as  they  probably 
wouldn't  have  accommodation  for  you  in  the  caravans. 


130      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

The  fact  of  the  Selbys  being  there  would  make  the  strain 
less.  You  might  find  such  a  week-end  quite  agreeable. 
Should  it,  on  the  other  hand,  try  you  more  than  you 
feel  you  can  bear,  there  is  always  the  plea  of  press  of 
work  to  be  urged.  The  Selbys  are  most  unconven- 
tional people,  who  will  not  trouble  themselves  too  much 
about  your  concerns.  Tessa  Selby  has  developed  quite 
a  warm  friendship  for  Astrid.  I  wonder  if  it  strikes 
you  what  a  tribute  I  am  paying  to  your  wife's  unusually 
fine  character  when  I  say  that  I  have  not  the  least  fear 
that  she  would,  by  any  hint  or  indiscretion,  ( give 
away*  the  distressing  state  of  affairs  between  you? 
You  have  given  me  a  daughter-in-law  whom  I  can  trust 
completely,  Ollie.  That  is  no  light  praise." 

He  made  no  reply.  All  mention  of  his  wife  left  him 
cold.  A  picture  was  stamped  upon  his  mind:  the 
turned-down  corners  of  a  child's  sweet  mouth,  the  lonely 
terror  which  had  seemed  to  leap  out  and  show  itself  to 
him  in  the  poignant  moment  of  his  good-bye  to  Vivien. 
He  was  half  beside  himself;  but  he  gathered  that  his 
mother  thought  the  caravan  trip  might  be  arranged. 
That  was  a  kind  of  respite  ...  as  she  said,  the  plea 
of  work  could  be  urged.  .  .  . 

"Well?  "said  Sybil  softly. 

"  Yes.  It  is  better  than  nothing.  It  will  be  a  re- 
lief :  a  few  days  to  myself.  .  .  .  Oh !  what  made  me  go 
there  to-night,  courting  torture  in  that  way  ?  " 

Sybil  found  herself  choking  back  words  with  diffi- 
culty. It  was  not  the  occasion,  she  saw,  in  which  to 
urge  Astrid's  claims.  His  wife  appeared  to  him  at 
the  moment  merely  in  the  light  of  an  insuperable  ob- 
stacle :  an  obstacle  of  his  own  creation  which  every  im- 
pulse of  generosity,  of  remorse,  of  shame,  of  bare  jus- 
tice, impelled  him  to  treat  with  consideration.  She 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      131 

rose,  went  behind  his  chair,  and  ruffled  his  hair  in  the 
old  way  which  lately  she  had  quite  given  up. 

"  Ollie,  the  reason  why  the  thought  of  Astrid  is  such 
a  thorn  to  you  to-night  is  that  you  are  telling  yourself 
that  had  you  not  been  married,  Vivien  would  have 
broken  her  engagement  to  marry  you.  I  want  you  to 
understand  that  that  idea  is  delusion — pure  delusion! 
I  have  seen  Mr.  Eailton,  and  I  ain  glad  I  have,  for  I 
am  quite  certain  that  he  would  never  let  her  go.  He 
intends  to  marry  her,  and  what  a  man  like  that  intends, 
he  does.  But  I  have  more  to  say.  He  is  the  right  hus- 
band for  Vivien." 

"  No !  "  cried  Oliver  fiercely. 

"  He  is.  He  loves  her  open-eyed.  He  sees  she  is 
weak,  inconstant,  and  vain.  Those  defects  don't  mat- 
ter to  him.  They  would  have  broken  your  heart.  He 
is  of  coarse  enough  fibre  to  understand  her  without  de- 
spising her;  or  perhaps  I  should  say  to  go  on  being  fond 
of  her  although  understanding  her.  He  will  rule  her 
with  a  rod  of  iron,  give  her  all  she  wants,  never  trust 
her  for  a  moment.  That  is  the  treatment  such  women 
as  she  require.  You  could  never  have  done  that.  You 
would  have  gone  on  all  your  life  expecting  from  her 
the  fine  feeling  in  which  she  is  wholly  lacking,  and 
having  a  fresh  heart-break  every  time  she  proved  her- 
self so  much  less  than  you  expected.  My  son,  my  darl- 
ing !  Listen  to  me !  ...  If  there  were  no  question  of 
Astrid,  if  you  were  free,  unmarried,  if  all  were  undone 
that  is  done,  I  would  never  lift  a  finger  to  help  on  your 
marriage  with  Vivien  Faulkner !  " 


CHAPTER  XHI 

To  grasp  the  thing  we  long  for,  and  with  sorrow 

sick  and  dreary, 
Then  to  find  how  it  can  fail  us  is  the  saddest 

pain  of  all. —  A.  A.  PBOCTEB. 

"  I'VE  got  that,"  said  Astrid,  in  a  business-like  tone. 
"  In  tune  with  his  surroundings. —  Fresh  paragraph  ?  " 

Dan  drew  in  a  long  breath.  "M*yes,  fresh  par. 
H'm!  Go  on."  His  voice  changed  to  a  curious  re- 
citing note,  and  he  spoke  as  though  he  were  reading  the 
words  from  a  page  before  him. 

"  There  was  no  east  That  is  to  say,  the  huge  bulk 
of  the  Hippodrome  cut  it  off.  On  the  north,  there  were 
the  dismal  rows  of  windows  in  the  jam  factory,  and  a 
smell  of  vinegar  upon  the  air  told  that  they  were  mak- 
ing pickles.  Beneath  the  bridge  southward  there  flowed 
no  river,  but  a  sooty  wilderness  of  railway  lines,  flanked 
by  a  great,  gaunt  engine  shed,  which  cut  away  the  sky, 
almost  to  the  zenith.  The  west  alone  lay  open  to  his 
gaze.  In  that  direction  only  could  his  thought  travel 
or  his  soul  take  wing.  The  long,  wet  railway  lines 
seemed  floating  towards  a  horizon  made  fair  by  opal- 
escent vapour,  and  mysterious  by  a  dim  suggestion  of 
trees  far  away.  So  level  was  the  land  that  the  metals 
lay  like  a  pathway  running  from  where  he  stood  straight 
to  the  smouldering  furnace  wherein  lay  the  sinking  sun, 
could  one  but  have  seen  him." 

He  stopped,  but  his  secretary  made  no  sound  nor  sign. 
She  sat  with  pen  poised,  her  back  against  a  haystack,  her 

132 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      133 

feet  in  the  meadow  grasses,  and  her  face  turned  towards 
a  prospect  of  delicate  beauty.  The  scents  of  early  sum- 
mer were  in  the  air  she  breathed.  The  light  was  the 
sunlight  of  such  a  May  as  England  had  not  known  for 
years.  Dan  lay  on  his  back.  His  hat  was  off,  his 
simple  attire  consisted  of  a  flannel  shirt  and  trousers  and 
a  crimson  cummerbund. 

"  Scratch  out  that  awful  ending,"  he  said,  after  a  mo- 
ment's thought.  "  Scratch  out '  could  one  but  have  seen 
him.'  Let  it  read  like  this  — l  the  smouldering  furnace 
wherein,  veiled  from  curious  eyes  by  tender  films  of 
coloured  mist,  the  sun  lay  a-dying.'  r 

For  a  minute  the  soft  scrape  of  the  pen,  and  then 
Astrid's  serious  voice.  "  Lay  a-dying,"  she  murmured 
abstractedly. 

"That's  all,"  said  Dan  suddenly,  after  a  lengthy 
pause. 

"Not  all  the  chapter?" 

"All  for  this  morning.  Hang  it,  I've  had  two 
hours!" 

"  You  had  better  give  me  a  bit  more,"  she  remon- 
strated quietly.  "  It  is  a  pity  to  leave  off  there.  I 
know  the  Professor  is  going  to  find  Philip  on  the  bridge. 
Do  bring  him  along,  if  you  can." 

Dan,  who  had  sat  up,  threw  himself  pettishly  down 
again.  "What  a  tyrant  you  are!  Tessa  never  dom- 
ineered like  that" 

"  I'm  not  Tessa  " —  briefly. 

"No,  by  the  powers,  nor  anybody  but  yourself. 
Bother  it  all,  where  was  I?  Read  me  down  the  last 

page." 

She  complied.     He  changed  a  word  here  and  there  as 

her  voice  flowed  on.  Then,  putting  his  heart  into  the 
thing,  he  brought  the  Professor  upon  the  bridge  that 


134      A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

looked  west,  and  showed  him  some  of  the  magic  of  a 
London  sunset. 

In  half  an  hour  it  was  done,  and  he  laughed  his  jolly 
laugh  as  he  sat  up.  "  Indeed,  and  I'm  thankful  you 
kept  me  to  it,"  he  told  her.  "  That's  a  far  better  place 
to  stop.  But  why  did  you  make  me  go  on  ?  " 

"  I  knew  you  had  it  ready  and  wanted  to  give  it  me, 
but  you  thought  I  was  getting  tired  and  that  we  ought 
to  go  back  to  lunch.  Come,"  she  added,  hastily  collect- 
ing her  things  into  a  bag,  "  we  must  walk  back  briskly, 
or  Tessa's  stew  will  be  spoilt.  It  seems  a  shame  to  let 
her  do  all  the  cooking,  but  I  think  your  publisher  will 
bless  me." 

Dan  took  the  bag,  slung  it  over  his  shoulder,  and  they 
left  the  field  by  way  of  a  winding  lane  that  went  between 
verdant  banks,  blue  with  dog  violet  and  crowned  with 
hawthorn. 

"  What  weather !  This  is  the  fifth  day !  "  he  cried 
gaily.  "  To-morrow  is  Saturday,  and  our  solitude  is  to 
be  invaded  by  Tessa's  engineer,  that  rhinoceros  Martin, 
and  the  very  fine  gentleman  your  husband.  It  is  a 
grand  idea  of  Humphrey's  to  have  his  car  so  made  that 
it  can  be  slept  in,  or  how  should  we  have  accommodated 
all  the  crowd?  However,  I  don't  know  that  it  would 
have  mattered.  You  and  Tessa  will  be  comfortable,  and 
we  men  can  always  rough  it." 

"  No  more  dictation  until  Monday,"  said  Astrid, 
with  something  like  a  sigh.  "  However,  it  is  a  good 
thing,  for  I  shall  have  to  help  Tessa  cook  for  such  a 
big  party.  Fortunately  she  says  Mr.  Martin  Selby  is 
a  fine  hand  at  washing  up." 

"  Of  course  the  men  wash  up !  The  least  they  can 
do  if  the  ladies  cook  for  them !  We'll  put  on  the  Editor 
to  roll  up  his  shirt-sleeves  and  join  the  happy  band! 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      135 

I'm  simply  longing  to  see  Brendon  rusticating.     Hope 
that  isn't  cheek,  Mrs.  Brendon  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not !  I  too  am  anxious  to  see  how  he 
comports  himself.  I  have  always  known  him  as  a 
Londoner." 

"  This  is  no  place  for  Londoners.  He  will  have  to 
become  the  Compleat  Tramp  if  he  wants  to  get  any  fun 
out  of  this.  Ah !  here  we  are,  if  we  may  judge  by  the 
perfume  that  arises  from  Tessa's  casserole ! " 

The  two  caravans  stood  in  the  corner  of  a  sloping 
pasture  which  dipped  to  the  south-west.  Below,  in  the 
valley,  a  white  road  meandered  towards  the  village, 
where,  two  or  three  times  a  day,  a  branch  train  deposited 
such  travellers  as  had  business  in  the  sleepy,  mellow,  red- 
brick-and-ivy  place.  As  soon  as  the  three  had  finished 
lunch  it  was  their  intention  to  pack  and  wander  slowly 
down  the  valley,  avoiding  the  village,  so  as  to  reach 
their  next  camping  ground,  about  a  mile  upon  its  further 
side,  in  time  for  supper. 

The  cooking-tent  was  Dan's  own  patent,  of  which  he 
was  very  proud.  Whatever  the  weather,  the  cook,  as 
a  result  of  its  scientific  arrangement,  was  independent 
of  rain  and  draught.  Tessa  came  out,  with  a  fire- 
scorched  face  beneath  her  lilac  sun-bonnet,  her  skirt 
pinned  up,  and  wearing  a  large  apron. 

"  Barely  ten  minutes  late !  "  said  she  approvingly. 
"  You  are  a  reformed  character,  Dan.  Dinner's  quite 
ready,  if  Astrid  will  give  a  hand  with  the  dishing  up." 

They  ate  out  of  doors,  under  the  big  elms,  in  the 
exquisite  weather  which  made  life  a  joy. 

"  I  shall  be  sorry  to  leave  this  lovely  camp,"  said 
Astrid  as  she  helped  the  potatoes. 

"  Oh,  you're  a  born  tramp !  "  said  Dan.  "  Isn't  she, 
Tessa?" 


136      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"  She's  a  splendid  companion,"  replied  Tessa  with 
energy.  "  I  hope  this  won't  be  our  last  jaunt  by  many 
and  many.  If  only  we  can  persuade  Mr.  Brendon  and 
Humphrey  to  like  it  as  much  as  we  do !  " 

"  Doesn't  Mr.  Spence  like  it  ?  " 

"He  has  hardly  had  a  fair  trial,"  said  Dan,  with 
amusement.  "  Tessa  led  him  forth  at  Easter  —  or,  as 
he  said,  at  north-easter  —  and  he  was  a  bit  put  off.  It 
snowed  most  of  the  time." 

"  Even  I  don't  care  much  about  caravanning  when 
it  snows,"  said  Tessa  drily. 

"  It  snows  now,"  observed  Astrid,  catching  in  her 
hand  a  drift  of  hawthorn  petals  which  the  lazy  breeze 
blew  into  her  lap.  "  How  delicious  they  taste !  If  one 
could  do  all  one's  cooking  under  a  hedgerow,  fancy  the 
flavours  you  could  introduce  into  your  sweets  —  Creme 
a  la  violette,  Gelee  d'aubepine,  Pouding  chevrefeuille, 
and  so  on." 

"  Delicious !  "  echoed  Tessa,  "  And  the  gorse,  I 
always  think  it  smells  of  almonds,  don't  you  ?  Gateau 
d'ajonc !  How  nice !  " 

Astrid  made  a  little  grimace.  "  Gateau  fleur  d'ajonc 
sounds  less  thorny  to  me,"  she  laughed. 

Dan  fixed  his  keen,  kind  eyes  upon  her.  Yesterday 
was  the  first  time  that  a  glimpse  of  her  native  Irish 
humour  had  escaped  their  guest.  She  had  started  the 
expedition  with  a  gravity,  a  shrinking  quietude,  which 
had  disturbed  him.  He  had  guessed  that  it  was  a 
wrench  for  her  to  part  from  her  newly-wedded  husband. 
In  fact,  it  had  surprised  both  him  and  Tessa  that  she 
should  have  been  ready  to  do  so.  The  Brendons'  circum- 
stances were  certainly  not  such  as  to  make  it  imperative 
that  she  should  work  for  money.  But  Dan  was  modern 
in  many  ways,  though  as  inconsistent  as  the  best  of  us. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      137 

The  idea  of  a  young  wife  not  wishing  to  be  entirely  de- 
pendent upon  her  husband  was  to  him  by  no  means  un- 
intelligible. 

"  The  Germans  have  a  May  drink,  made  of  cowslips 
and  things,"  he  remarked  dreamily.  "  But  the  best  of 
all  would  be  a  primrose  wine.  To  me  the  perfume  of  a 
primrose  wood  is  the  most  subtle,  the  most  unmatchable 
thing  in  nature.  If  one  could  capture  it!  But,  like 
all  the  more  esoteric  forms  of  joy,  it  cannot  be  had  at 
will." 

"  A  la  bonne  Tieure,"  said  Tessa,  "  I  am  grateful  to 
Astrid  for  the  hint.  We  will  make  cowslip  tea;  the 
fields  round  here  are  golden  with  the  dear  things," 

"  By  the  way,  did  the  butcher  bring  out  the  letters, 
as  he  said  he  would  ?  "  asked  Dan. 

"  Bless  me,  yes,  he  did !  Nothing  of  importance,  I 
think.  Oh,  yes,  there  was  a  copy  of  the  North  Middle- 
sex Courier,  which  should  contain  an  account  of  the 
Railton-Faulkner  wedding." 

"  I'll  go  and  get  it,"  said  Dan,  rising  and  entering  the 
ladies'  caravan,  which  by  day  was  laid  out  as  a  sitting- 
room. 

He  returned  with  the  local  paper,  and  after  a  short 
search  found  the  column  devoted  upon  this  wonderful 
occasion  to  the  function,  the  presents,  the  costumes,  and 
so  on. 

"  '  The  bride  wore  an  exquisite  creation  of  ivory 
charmeuse,  veiled  in  pearl-sewn  gauze,  by  Madame  Cer- 
isette.'  H'm,  h'm !  That's  all  Greek  to  me  '  The  brides- 
maids were  the  Hon.  Miss  So-and-so.  Don't  know  ^any 
of  'em  —  imported  goods;  let's  get  on  to  Thackridge 
itself.  '  The  church  was  magnificently  decorated  with 
the  well-known  products  of  Sir  Charles  Faulkner's  mag- 
nificent hothouses,  and  his  head  gardener,  Mr.  Macready, 


138      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

is  to  be  congratulated  upon  the  impressive  effect  ob- 
tained by  the  massing  of  amaryllis,  agapanthus,  lapa- 
geria.'  Good  Lord,  what  stuff!  Is  there  no  account 
of  the  ceremony  itself  ?  O  yes  - —  here  at  last.  '  The 
bride,  who  entered  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  her  father, 
looked  lovely,  in  spite  of  her  pallor.  It  has  been  known 
in  Thackridge  for  the  last  week  that  Miss  Faulkner's 
health  had  been  unduly  tried  by  the  exertions  which 
must  of  necessity  precede  a  somewhat  hurried  wedding. 
It  is  not  three  weeks  since  Lady  Faulkner  and  her  daugh- 
ter returned  from  Cairo,  and  Miss  Vivien  Faulkner's 
friends  were  more  grieved  than  surprised  to  hear  that 
the  bride  had  actually  left  her  bed  in  order  to  have  the 
ceremony  performed.  In  spite  of  her  temporary  del- 
icacy, the  young  lady,  however,  went  through  the  trying 
ordeal  admirably.  Her  jewels  were ' —  O,  who  cares  for 
her  jewels  ?  — f  The  sheaf  of  lilies  which  she  carried 
was  arranged  by  ' —  some  other  tradesman,  I  suppose. 
Where  does  it  go  on?  Ah,  yes,  here  is  something 
more !  — '  We  understand  that  the  wedding  was  fixed 
at  so  early  a  date  owing  to  the  pressing  engagements  of 
the  bridegroom  in  Xew  York.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the 
date  of  sailing  has  been  postponed.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Railton  did  not  leave  the  Park  after  the  wedding  yester- 
day. We  were  told  by  Lady  Guestling,  eldest  sister  of 
the  bride,  who  most  obligingly  gave  us  a  few  moments 
of  her  valuable  time,  that  her  sister  would  take  a  day 
or  two  of  rest  after  to-day's  ceremony,  and  then  leave 
with  her  husband,  to  pass  a  week  or  two  very  quietly  at 
some  seaside  resort  in  England,  before  facing  the 
rigours  of  the  Atlantic  voyage.' — Well,  Tessa,  what 
d'you  think  of  that?" 

"  I  am  not  at  all  surprised.     She  looked  very  ill  the 
night  we  dined  there,"  said  Tessa  composedly.     "  After 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     139 

all,  she  has  been  through  a  good  deal  during  the  last  six 
months,  enough  to  shake  up  an  excitable  girl.  I  am 
glad  that  Mr.  Railton  is  showing  consideration  for  her. 
I  rather  liked  the  look  of  him." 

Astrid  had  sat  listening  without  saying  a  word.  She 
had  grown  noticeably  pale,  and  Dan,  catehing  sight  of 
her  face,  told  himself  that  he  was  inconsiderate.  He 
was  a  little  puzzled,  however.  How  much  did  Mrs. 
Oliver  Brendon  know,  or  care,  about  the  story  of  her 
husband's  first  engagement  ?  They  had  both  been  pres- 
ent, apparently  on  the  best  of  terms  and  in  the  best 
of  spirits,  at  the  Park  dinner  the  other  night.  The 
feeling  she  might  experience  on  hearing  that  the  mar- 
riage was  an  accomplished  fact,  would  most  likely  be 
relief.  One  glance  at  her  face,  however,  told  him  that 
she  was  profoundly  stirred.  Characteristically,  she 
said  nothing,  nor  did  she  ask  to  look  at  the  paper. 
After  some  more  talk,  she  quietly  inquired  whether  Mrs. 
Brendon's  name  was  down  in  the  list  of  guests,  and 
learned  that  it  was. 

"  Not  your  husband,"  added  Dan, 

"  No.  He  said  he  should  not  have  time  to  go.  He 
is  living  in  town,  as  you  know,  because  he  is  working 
very  hard.  The  Congress  of  Foreign  Journalists  keeps 
him  busy." 

"  He  has  done  wonders  with  that  paper,"  said  Dan 
thoughtfully.  "  It  must  be  a  valuable  concern  by  now, 
I  should  think." 

"  It  does  very  well,"  she  replied. 

"  I  don't  think  the  last  few  numbers  have  been  so 
good  —  since  Astrid  came  off  it,"  observed  Tessa. 

"  O,  Tessa,  what  nonsense !  "  cried  Astrid. 

"  If  I  were  your  husband,  I'd  appoint  you  sub-edi- 
tor, at  a  good  salary,"  continued  her  friend. 


140      A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

"  She's  first-rate  at  sub-editing,"  agreed  Dan.  "  Her 
care  is  extraordinary,  and  she  has  a  genius  for  punctua- 
tion. There  is  literature  oozing  out  of  the  pores  of 
her." 

"  0,  please !  "  murmured  Astrid,  growing  red  and 
rising  to  escape  from  his  enthusiasm.  "  Tessa,  you  are 
eating  too  many  almonds  and  raisins,  and  we  shan't 
have  enough  dessert  to  last  till  Monday!  I  am  going 
to  take  them  away  from  you,  and  wash  up." 

"  I  wash,  you  wipe,"  said  Dan  promptly.  "  I  can 
smoke  my  pipe  the  while." 

"  You'll  find  clean  dusters  in  the  locker,  and  the  ket- 
tle boils,"  said  Tessa,  stretching  herself  luxuriously, 
and  opening  a  novel. 

"  I  shall  boil  the  kettle  again,  and  make  tea  now,  and 
put  it  in  the  Thermos,"  said  Astrid,  as  Dan  and  she 
proceeded  to  the  kitchen  tent  to  perform  their  duties. 
"  That  will  save  our  stopping  to  make  tea  as  we  go 
along." 

"  Great  thought  Always  said  you  were  a  born 
tramp,"  was  the  satisfied  reply,  spoken  with  the  stem  of 
his  pipe  between  his  teeth. 

They  washed,  wiped,  and  chatted  in  full  content. 
He  was  beginning  to  think  that  his  secretary  was  a  more 
interesting  study  than  the  plot  of  any  of  his  tales. 
But  a  sound  instinct  warned  him  that  his  studying  must 
be  done  with  the  extremest  caution.  Astrid  was  a 
ready  and,  at  times,  an  interesting  talker  upon  imper- 
sonal topics.  On  the  subject  of  herself,  "  Trespassers 
will  be  prosecuted  "  was  written  up  all  around. 

He  spoke  no  word  now  of  the  wedding,  nor  of  the 
bride's  illness.  But  as  his  companion  lapsed  into  si- 
lence, and  her  preoccupation  increased,  he  knew  well 
where  her  thoughts  were. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     141 

The  caravan  tour,  when  it  had  been  ascertained  that 
the  Brendons  really  were  coming,  had  been  extended, 
and  the  plans  slightly  changed.  The  caravans  had 
been  sent  by  rail  to  a  spot  in  the  West  of  England, 
whence  they  could  make  their  way  by  degrees  to  the 
south  coast. 

They  were  moving  towards  the  sea,  but  Astrid  did 
not  know  how  near  they  were.  It  was  Dan's  little 
surprise,  which  he  was  keeping  for  her.  He  had  been 
told,  by  an  innkeeper  the  night  before,  that  upon  the 
crest  of  the  next  hill  they  would  have  a  fine  view  of 
the  Channel.  He  had  heard  her  say  that  the  Irish 
Sea  was  all  she  had  as  yet  beheld  in  the  way  of  ma- 
rine scenery. 

It  was  late  afternoon  when  they  came  upon  it. 

The  breeze  had  dropped  to  nothing,  the  sky  was 
blue,  with  suggestion  of  haze  which,  so  far,  the  wind 
had  kept  at  bay.  The  sun  was  beginning  to  stoop,  so 
that  his  light  struck  sideways  upon  the  red  trunks  of 
a  grove  of  Scotch  firs  near.  The  green  hill-sides  sloped 
richly,  and  where  there  was  no  grass,  the  soil  was  the 
colour  of  terra-cotta. 

One  behind  the  other,  the  ridges  rolled  away  beneath 
their  feet  to  where,  beyond  green  pasture  and  red 
earth,  lay  the  blue  ocean,  just  blurred  at  the  meeting- 
point  of  sky  and  sea. 

They  checked  the  horses,  to  rest  upon  the  summit, 
and  the  three  of  them  stood  silently,  gazing  their  fill 
upon  the  loveliness  before  them.  Astrid  was  experi- 
encing the  power  of  nature  to  heal  a  sore  heart 

When  she  joined  the  Selbys,  not  a  week  ago,  she 
had  thought  herself  so  bruised,  so  deeply  wounded,  that 
her  life  must  creep  always  on  a  broken  wing. 

Lying  awake  at  night  she  lived  over  again  the  short, 


142      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

conclusive  scene  in  the  library.  Oliver's  indifference, 
his  preoccupation,  his  carelessness  as  to  where  she  went, 
or  what  she  did :  the  utter  failure  of  her  month  of  trial. 
Only  for  the  sake  of  Sybil  Brendon  had  she  lived 
through  those  weeks  of  humiliation.  She  loved  Oliver's 
mother.  -When  her  resentment  flamed  up  hottest 
against  her  husband,  she  told  herself  incessantly,  "  He 
is  her  son.  He  must  have  something  noble  in  him." 

To-morrow  she  must  go  through  the  ordeal  of  meet- 
ing him  again.  She  had  not  seen  him  since  their  last 
interview.  A  slight  cold  gave  Sybil  the  chance  to  keep 
her  in  bed  to  breakfast  for  the  few  days  that  intervened 
before  her  departure  with  the  Selbys.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  she  had  got  past  caring  now,  what  he  said,  or 
how  he  looked.  Her  heart  was  hard  as  a  stone.  But 
this  beauty,  this  unrolling  pageant  of  summer,  this  glad 
land,  full  of  larks  singing  out  an  ecstasy  which  was  in- 
exhaustible —  of  buttercup  meadows  and  the  delicate 
fringe  of  wild  carrot  —  of  cowslips  and  white  may,  of 
little  streams  and  great  hills,  of  fan-like  beeches  and 
woodland  glades  —  how  could  the  heart  of  a  girl  re- 
main hard  therein  ? 

Ah,  but  a  heart,  if  it  be  soft,  will  begin  to  crave! 
Therefore  she  choked  back  her  joy  and  checked  the  out- 
rush  of  feeling.  She  held  herself  in  with  an  effort 
which  whitened  her  cheeks  and  quickened  her  breath. 

Dan  saw  it.  With  the  insight  which  was  developing 
in  him,  he  saw  that  the  feeling  was  all  there  —  that 
she  would  not  show  it.  He  wondered  if  her  cold,  hard 
creed,  the  inheritance  of  her  Ulster  Protestantism,  lay 
behind  —  whether  on  principle  she  kept  all  her  tender 
impulses  thus  in  check.  Something  in  the  trouble  of 
her  eyes,  in  the  corners  of  her  pretty  mouth,  gathered 
in  with  mute  pathos,  caused  him  to  feel  a  deep  pity  for 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      143 

her.  He  would  have  been  grateful  could  he  have  found 
the  smallest  way  to  help  her  —  to  offer  consolation.  He 
believed  that  the  times  when  she  was  really  happiest 
were  those  she  spent  in  writing  from  his  dictation. 

He  was  beginning  to  develop  a  feeling  of  antagonism 
for  Oliver,  because  he  had  more  than  a  suspicion  that 
he  did  not  make  his  wife  happy.  This  afternoon  his 
mind  leapt  to  a  conclusion.  Of  course,  young  Bren- 
don  had  married  without  saying  anything  of  his  recent 
—  too  recent  —  love  affair.  This  his  wife  must  have 
discovered  since.  The  astute  romancer  began,  or 
thought  he  began,  to  understand  the  willingness  of  the 
newly-wedded  girl  to  come  caravanning  without  her 
husband. 

He  sighed  wistfully.  Things  happen  very  per- 
versely. Here  was  a  girl  whom,  had  he  known  of  her 
existence,  he  would  have  sought  out  and  made  his  wife 
if  she  would  have  had  him.  Apparently  she  had  been 
for  two  years  immured  in  Brendon's  office,  right  under 
the  fine  gentleman's  nose,  while  he  philandered  with  a 
cheap  little  person  like  Vivien. 

Dan  felt  as  if  the  plot  of  a  novel  lay  ready  to  his 
hand  —  a  plot  which  he  could  not,  dare  not,  use. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

We  shape  our  deeds,  and  then  are  shapen  by  them. 

To  some  frail  heart  a  cruel  gift  we  bring, 
Turn  from  our  acts  away,  and  think  to  fly  them: 

Ah!     Theirs  the  stronger  wing! — WILLIAM  WATSON. 

MRS.  OLIVER  BRENDON  awoke  next  morning  to  the 
memory  that  something  that  day  had  to  be  undergone 
—  something  from  which  all  her  nerves  winced  away. 

It  was  Tessa's  turn  to  lie  in  bed  while  Astrid  got 
breakfast,  so  she  rose  early,  and  went  out  to  her  work 
with  a  sense  of  gratitude  that  she  had  something  other 
than  her  own  destiny  upon  which  to  fix  her  thoughts. 

The  morning  was  perfectly  beautiful,  dew  lay  beaded 
upon  the  may  blossom  and  buttercups,  and  haze  upon 
the  ocean  at  their  feet.  She  had  thought  their  late 
camping-ground  almost  perfect,  but  this  far  surpassed 
it.  It  was  upon  the  edge  of  a  wild  moor  with  pines 
and  gorse  —  a  moor  that  flamed  with  the  full  effulgence 
of  the  golden  broom. 

The  man  who  had  attended  to  the  horses  had  built 
and  lit  her  fire,  and  she  set  to  work  methodically  to 
unfold  the  folding-table,  spread  the  cloth,  lay  the  tea- 
things,  cut  the  rashers,  break  the  eggs,  and  do  the  vari- 
ous simple  things  that  were  necessary.  The  years  that 
she  had  lived  alone  in  London  had  given  her  a  fine  ap- 
prenticeship in  this  kind  of  thing,  and  had  her  heart 
been  less  heavy  she  would  have  enjoyed  it  thoroughly. 
As  it  was,  the  thought  of  her  husband's  glance  of  dis- 

144 


A    MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE      145 

taste,  the  memory  of  his  unfriendly  voice,  the  coldness 
of  his  complete  indifference,  tortured  her  so  that  she 
found  a  tear  slipping  down  upon  her  bare  arm,  and 
almost  dropping  into  the  frying-pan. 

Upon  one  thing  she  made  up  her  mind.  She  could 
not  meet  him  for  the  first  time  before  the  Selbys. 
They  were  kind,  unsuspicious  people,  but  they  would 
not  be  able  to  help  noticing  the  strain  of  the  situation. 
No ;  much  as  she  disliked  the  prospect,  she  would  stroll 
down  the  road  that  led  to  the  village  for  half  a  mile  or 
so,  and  meet  him  on  his  way.  He  had  been  carefully 
instructed  as  to  his  route,  and  had  announced  his  in- 
tention of  coming  by  a  train  due  at  about  three  o'clock. 

After  breakfast,  afraid  of  her  own  thoughts,  she  per- 
suaded Dan  to  dictate  for  a  couple  of  hours,  while  Tessa 
went  off  with  the  man,  Barry  by  name,  to  the  village 
with  a  market  basket,  to  do  the  Sunday  marketing. 

Lunch,  it  being  Saturday,  was  cold,  and  consisted  of 
tinned  tongue  and  salad,  which  tasted  delicious  with 
the  farmhouse  bread,  West  Country  butter  and  clotted 
cream. 

It  seemed  to  Astrid  as  if  the  morning  took  wings,  as 
though  lunch  were  over  almost  before  they  had  sat 
down  to  it  —  as  if,  with  no  time  left  for  preparation, 
she  were  launched  upon  this  terrible  mission  —  the  en- 
counter with  her  husband. 

Just  as  she  was  setting  out,  Tessa  called  to  her  from 
the  caravan  to  ask  her  to  take  Binks,  who  had  been  for- 
gotten that  morning,  and  was  in  need  of  a  walk.  As- 
trid was  too  kind  to  refuse,  but  the  request  was  not 
very  welcome ;  for  Binks  was  a  big  Irish  terrier  of  most 
pugnacious  proclivities,  and  one  needed  to  be  wary 
when  he  met  with  other  dogs.  However,  his  frenzy  of 
joy  when  she  let  him  loose  touched  her  heart.  There 


146      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

were  no  canine  enemies  in  sight,  and  they  started  for 
their  walk  in  great  amity. 

The  way  was  beautiful.  The  road  curved  down  into 
the  valley  with  long  sweeps,  and  each  turn  disclosed  a 
new  peep  of  the  sea,  dotted  with  distant  sails.  After 
a  little,  she  could  see  the  coast  further  west,  where  in 
a  wide  red  bay  nestled  Donnouth  Harbour,  that  popu- 
lar watering-place.  Even  its  big  white  hotels  looked 
beautiful,  softened  by  distance  and  atmosphere,  in  the 
radiance  of  the  sunshine. 

A  pity  indeed  that  all  her  heart  should  be  full  of 
black  trouble  in  the  midst  of  such  beauty!  Yet  her 
despondency  was  too  profound  to  be  shaken  off  to-day, 
in  view  of  what  lay  before  her.  It  seemed  there  was 
no  way  out  of  her  troubles  but  the  way  she  knew  she 
could  never  take  —  the  way  of  self-murder. 

Astrid  was  a  fighter,  one  who  would  never  surrender 
to  her  own  misery.  Yet  in  that  moment,  could  she 
have  avoided  the  sight  of  her  husband  by  merely  desir- 
ing her  own  death,  she  felt  she  would  have  succumbed 
to  the  temptation,  so  intense  was  her  fear,  her  shrink- 
ing, her  unwillingness. 

The  tears,  rushing  into  her  eyes,  obscured  her  vision. 
For  a  while  she  stumbled  on,  too  lost  in  her  unhappiness 
to  brush  them  away:  and  so  she  missed  the  first  sight 
of  a  fat  brown  and  white  spaniel  just  appearing  round 
a  bend  of  the  road. 

Her  earliest  intimation  of  his  presence  was  his  im- 
prudent, rude,  and  challenging  bark.  Needless  to  say, 
Binks  waited  for  no  further  declaration  of  war.  Be- 
fore Astrid  had  time  to  say  a  word,  he  rushed  upon  the 
impertinent  foreigner,  and  seized  him  in  that  hold 
which  so  seldom  relaxed  when  once  it  had  fastened  upon 
its  prey. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     147 

Astrid  flew  upon  him,  gripped  his  collar,  beat  him 
with  her  fists,  even  took  up  a  stone  from  the  road  and 
pounded  his  head  with  it;  but  he  held  on,  the  howls 
of  his  victim  growing  fainter  by  degrees.  Finally  the 
girl  saw  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  literally  to  choke 
him  off  his  quarry.  The  handkerchief  she  drew  from 
her  pocket  was,  however,  ludicrously  inadequate.  With 
the  resource  engendered  by  emergency,  she  unstrapped 
her  leather  belt,  buckled  it  about  the  sturdy  neck,  and 
pulled  as  if  her  very  life  depended  upon  it.  Absorbed 
as  she  was,  she  quite  failed  to  hear  the  hoot  of  a  motor 
approaching  down  the  hill.  Her  back  was  towards  it, 
and  her  figure  came  between  the  chauffeur's  view  and 
the  two  dogs  who  accounted  for  her  presence  in  the 
middle  of  the  road.  The  man  thought  she  was  fas- 
tening up  a  shoe,  or  something  of  the  kind,  and  though 
he  slowed  down,  still  went  forward,  with  the  invincible 
belief  of  the  driver  of  a  motor  that  anybody  will  sooner 
get  out  of  the  way  than  be  run  down. 

Astrid  saw  and  heard  nothing  whatever.  Just  as 
the  ferocious  Binks  succumbed  to  strangulation  and 
dropped  the  spaniel  from  his  jaws,  the  off  wheel  of 
the  motor  knocked  her  down,  and  she  was  flung  into 
the  road. 

The  man  pulled  up  at  once,  and  the  only  occupant 
of  the  car,  an  elderly  gentleman,  cried  out  in  much 
anger : 

"You  silly  fool,  what  are  you  doing?  Running 
over  a  woman!  What  next,  I  wonder?  What  the 
deuce  are  you  thinking  about  ?  " 

"  I'm  very  sorry,  sir,  the  young  lady  was  right  slap 
in  the  midst  of  the  road.  I  couldn't  see  what  she 
was  doing,  but  she  was  separating  two  fighting  dogs, 
it  seems ! " 


148      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

While  speaking,  both  had  jumped  off  the  car,  and 
hastened  to  see  the  extent  of  the  damage.  Astrid  had 
already  managed  to  sit  up,  but  was  looking  white  and 
somewhat  dazed.  The  spaniel  had  lain  down  in  the 
road,  faintly  howling,  and  bleeding  profusely;  and 
Binks  had,  to  all  seeming,  succumbed  in  good  earnest 
to  the  constriction  of  the  strap  round  his  throat. 

"  Untie  —  my  —  dog !  Untie  —  my  —  dog !  "  gasped 
the  girl,  waving  a  peremptory  hand,  while  with  the 
other  she  fumbled  for  something  to  stanch  the  blood 
that  flowed  from  her  cheek,  but  could  not  find  it,  as 
her  handkerchief  was  at  the  moment  lying  soaked  with 
blood  in  the  road. 

"  Dear,  dear,  this  is  most  unfortunate !  My  dear 
madam,  my  dear  madam,  permit  me !  "  stammered  the 
stout  gentleman,  offering  a  clean  handkerchief. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Astrid,  and  was  vexed  to  find 
that  her  lips  shook  in  a  way  which  made  it  difficult 
to  articulate. 

The  chauffeur,  meanwhile,  had  hastened  to  the  aid 
of  the  unfortunate  terrier,  had  unbuckled  the  belt,  and 
was  looking  doubtfully  at  the  limp  form. 

"  Water !  "  gasped  Astrid.  "  There  is  a  brook  there ! 
Throw  some  over  him." 

The  chauffeur,  anxious  to  atone  for  his  misdeeds,  took 
off  his  livery  cap,  filled  it  with  water,  and  dashed  it 
over  the  prostrate  hero.  After  one  or  two  applications 
Binks  showed  signs  of  life.  Meanwhile  the  elderly 
gentleman  assisted  the  girl  to  her  feet,  and  she  sat 
down  shakily  upon  the  step  of  the  motor,  unequal  for 
the  moment  to  the  effort  of  getting  in. 

"  Leave  that  brute  and  bring  the  water  here,"  said 
the  owner  of  the  motor  gruffly.  "  Let  me  wash  the 
young  lady's  face,  and  see  how  badly  she  is  cut." 


A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE     149 

"  The  dog's  alive,  miss,"  pleaded  the  young  chauffeur 
humbly,  as  he  obeyed. 

"  Thank  you  —  very  —  much,"  said  Astrid,  trying  to 
smile  as  she  met  his  scared  and  apprehensive  eyes.  "  I 
never  heard  you  coming,  the  dogs  were  making  such  a 
noise." 

"  It  was  inexcusable,  simply  inexcusable,"  protested 
the  elderly  gentleman,  dabbing  at  her  face  with  the 
wet  handkerchief.  "  A  more  recklessly  careless  piece 
of  driving  it  would  be  impossible  to  imagine.  May  I 
ask  where  you  would  like  to  be  taken,  madam?  The 
car  is,  of  course,  at  your  disposal." 

Astrid  did  not  for  the  moment  reply.  To  her  own 
surprise  and  indignation  she  felt  a  sudden  dimness  of 
perception  which  suggested  that  she  might  be  going  to 
faint.  The  voices  of  the  two  men  came  from  a  dis- 
tance, the  landscape  began  slowly  to  circle  round.  .  .  . 

It  was  certainly  no  wish  of  his  own,  but  a  sense  of 
submission  to  the  inevitable,  which  had  induced  Oliver 
to  take  train  for  Dormouth  Junction  that  afternoon. 

His  life,  he  felt,  had  escaped  from  his  own  control, 
and  he  must  trudge  wearily  along  in  its  wake,  as  it 
were,  not  knowing  nor  caring  whither  it  led.  His  de- 
pression had  been  increased  that  morning  by  an  inter- 
view with  Mr.  Marsh,  the  proprietor  of  the  Penman, 
which  had  left  him  vaguely  uneasy. 

The  paper  was  going  well,  the  rise  in  circulation  was 
steady  and  increasing.  He  had  suggested  a  slight 
change  in  the  staff,  not  at  all  of  an  expensive  or  far- 
reaching  character  —  the  kind  of  thing  which  an  ed- 
itor would  expect  to  have  granted  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Mr.  Marsh  had  hummed  and  hawed,  and  finally  said 
that  he  would  rather  leave  things  as  they  were  —  ex- 


150      AMAKE-SHIFTMARRIAGE 

/ 
actly  as  they  were  —  for  a  few  weeks  longer,  in  view 

of  the  fact  that  he  might  be  desiring  further  changes 
before  very  long.  He  had  added  a  warm  eulogy  of 
Brendon's  own  work  —  a  eulogy  which  sounded  per- 
fectly genuine.  But  the  interview  had  left  the  young 
editor  with  something  of  the  "  rickety "  feeling  well 
known  to  the  journalist  whose  whole  income  and  pros- 
pects in  life  are  dependent  upon  the  whim  of  a  rich 
man  who  takes  up  newspaper-owning  and  lays  it  down 
again  at  his  own  pleasure  and  inclination. 

The  trifling  incident  added  to  his  sense  of  failure 
and  wretchedness. 

The  journey  was  very  hot.  The  time  of  starting 
had  prevented  his  having  lunch,  and  there  was  no 
restaurant-car  on  the  train.  He  reached  the  station 
thirsty  and  tired,  with  a  bag  to  carry.  There  was  no 
conveyance  of  any  kind  to  be  hired,  and,  after  some 
poor  and  inadequate  refreshment  at  an  inn,  he  pre- 
pared to  face  a  walk  whose  tedium  was  not  mitigated 
by  any  hope  of  compensation  at  its  end. 

The  hill  he  had  to  climb  exceeded  his  worst  expecta- 
tions. He  was  wearing  his  London  clothes,  and  he 
disliked  walking  in  the  country  in  London  clothes.  He 
neared  the  top  in  a  state  of  temper  not  far  removed 
from  savage,  though  he  had  resolved  to  behave  as  civ- 
illy as  he  could  to  the  millstone  that  was  about  his  neck. 

He  came  upon  a  curious  scene. 

The  white  dust  of  the  lane  was  intersected  with  a 
trickle  of  blood.  Just  beyond  stood  a  motor-car,  on 
the  step  of  which  reclined  a  girl  in  a  blue  linen  suit, 
upheld  by  a  stout  elderly  gentleman.  The  chauffeur 
was  bending  over  what  looked  like  a  dead  dog  in  the 
road. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      151 

Oliver  forgot  his  ill-temper  as  he  approached  this 
unlooked-for  spectacle. 

"Is  there  an  accident?  Can  I  help?"  asked  his 
clear,  well-bred  voice. 

Astrid  started.  She  tried  to  speak.  At  the  same 
moment  he  drew  near  enough  to  recognise  her. 

One  side  of  her  face  was  bleeding,  and  her  dress 
was  splotched  with  blood.  Her  hat  was  off,  her  hair 
disarranged. 

"  Astrid !  Good  heavens,  what's  the  matter  ?  "  he 
cried  hurriedly. 

"  Sir,  I  beg  to  apologise,  if  you  are  a  friend  of  this 
poor  young  lady " 

"  Her  husband,"  said  Oliver  shortly. 

"  I  am  relieved  and  thankful.  She  was  pluckily 
engaged  in  trying  to  separate  two  dogs  who  were  fight- 
ing. My  chauffeur  came  along,  she  did  not  hear  him 
hoot,  and  I  am  ashamed  to  confess  that  he  did  not 
manage  to  stop  quite  soon  enough,  and  your  wife 
was  thrown  down." 

"  Oliver  —  I'm  all  right,"  said  Astrid  feebly.  "  I 
don't  know  what  made  me  silly  all  of  a  sudden.  I 
think  it  was  —  seeing  the  dog  killing  the  other.  .  .  ." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  the  gentleman,  compassionately. 
"  Please  lift  your  wife  into  the  car,  sir.  I  will  drive 
her  wherever  she  wishes  to  go.  My  name  is  Wolfe. 
If  I  may  take  her  home  quickly,  I  will  go  on  and 
send  a  doctor  at  once." 

"A  vet  would  be  best,"  said  Astrid,  with  a  faint 
smile.  "  I  am  all  right.  The  dogs  .  .  ."  For  some 
reason  she  did  not  seem  able  to  speak  fluently. 

"Are  both  the  dogs  yours,  madam?"  asked  Mr. 
Wolfe. 


152      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

She  shook  her  head.  Oliver,  turning  to  examine 
the  animals,  recognised  Binks.  "  That  brute !  He's 
always  fighting,"  he  said  irritably. 

"  I  don't  know  where  the  spaniel  comes  from,"  fal- 
tered Astrid.  "  He  just  —  appeared." 

Oliver  and  Mr.  Wolfe  consulted,  with  the  result  that 
it  was  decided  to  lay  the  wounded  spaniel,  who  was 
badly  bitten,  upon  some  grass  in  the  motor,  and,  after 
driving  Astrid  to  the  camp,  to  proceed  to  Dormouth 
in  search  of  a  veterinary  surgeon.  Binks  had  more  or 
less  recovered,  though  he  looked  limp  and  seemed  cowed. 
The  chauffeur  thought  the  spaniel  came  from  the  Park, 
which  at  this  point  skirted  one  side  of  the  road.  He 
knew  that  Colonel  Bruce,  the  owner,  kept  spaniels  of 
that  breed. 

Oliver  turned  and  went  towards  his  wife,  who  still 
sat  on  the  step.  His  approach  seemed  to  galvanise 
her  into  action.  She  rose,  holding  on  by  the  car,  and 
stood  upon  her  feet.  It  was  her  intention  to  jump  in 
before  he  could  reach  her;  but  she  had  reckoned  with- 
out the  effects  of  the  shock  she  had  undergone.  A 
twinge  of  pain  in  her  side  brought  back  the  dizzy  feel- 
ing, and  she  was  only  half-conscious  of  Oliver's  arms 
lifting  her  up  and  of  being  placed  upon  the  luxurious 
cushions  of  the  motor. 

"  Oliver,"  she  murmured,  as  he  sat  her  down,  "  lend 
me  your  hankie,  please." 

He  complied  at  once.  "  I've  got  some  clean  ones 
in  my  bag,"  he  said. 

"  This  will  do.  Only  to  hold  over  my  face  until  I 
can  wash  it.  We  are  not  far  from  the  camp." 

The  rush  of  cool  air  was  reviving.  In  the  five  min- 
utes which  sufficed  to  reach  the  caravans,  she  had  pulled 
herself  together  wonderfully.  She  was  able  to  thank 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     153 

Mr.  Wolfe  for  his  kindness,  and  to  explain  what  had 
happened  to  Tessa  and  Dan  when  they  rushed  out  in 
surprise  and  anxiety. 

Mr.  Wolfe  evidently  thought  a  caravan  a  very  bad 
place  for  the  wounded  lady.  So  did  Oliver,  though 
he  held  his  tongue  until  the  apologetic  gentleman  and 
his  subdued  chauffeur  had  whisked  away  down  the  road 
with  the  invalid  spaniel. 

In  face  of  Tessa's  evident  affection,  and  readiness 
to  do  all  that  was  possible  for  Astrid's  comfort,  he  felt 
it  would  be  churlish  to  suggest  taking  her  to  an  hotel, 
apart  from  the  difficulty  of  getting  her  there.  She  was 
tenderly  conveyed  into  the  ladies'  caravan,  the  door 
was  shut,  and  Dan  and  he  left  to  their  own  devices. 
Dan  suggested  a  smoke  and  a  stroll  until  tea-time,  and 
soothed  Oliver's  difficulties  about  a  doctor  by  explain- 
ing that  he  was  every  moment  expecting  the  arrival  of 
Humphrey  Spence  and  Martin  in  Spence's  motor,  and 
that  as  soon  as  the  car  came  it  would  be  at  Oliver's  dis- 
posal. 

"  But  I  don't  think  you  need  be  very  anxious,"  he 
said.  "  The  chauffeur  says  the  wheel  barely  touched 
her,  it  just  flung  her  down,  and  I  think  her  faintness 
was  due  to  the  strain  she  had  gone  through  with  those 
two  dogs.  I  told  Tessa  she  ought  not  to  be  sent  out 
alone  with  Binks,  I  am  the  only  person  he  obeys  in  the 
one  respect  of  other  dogs,  though  he  is  obedient  enough 
in  other  cases.  I  am  awfully  sorry  it  should  have 
happened,  but  she  will  soon  get  over  it.  Tessa  has  a 
little  medicine  chest  for  emergencies  —  lint  and  so  on." 

By  the  time  that  he  had  changed,  had  a  drink,  a 
comfortable  smoke,  and  a  stroll  round  in  the  exquisite 
beauty  of  the  moor,  some  of  Oliver's  load  of  depression 
had  evaporated.  At  any  rate,  the  worst  moment  was 


154      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

over.  Astrid  and  he  had  met,  and  the  accident  had 
broken  the  awkwardness  of  their  meeting. 

"  Mrs.  Brendon  was  set  upon  meeting  you,"  Dan  told 
him.  "  She  hoped  to  get  most  of  the  way  to  the  sta- 
tion, I  think." 

Oliver  had  to  cover  his  surprise  as  best  he  could. 

He  had  not  looked  for  such  luxuries  as  deck-chairs, 
nor  a  table  for  his  food.  "  I  thought  you  ate  it  out 
of  the  saucepan,  on  the  grass,"  he  said  to  Tessa,  when 
she  came  out  to  lay  tea. 

"  We  shall  teach  you  a  very  different  tale,"  said 
Tessa  cheerily.  "  Of  course,  I  should  like  to  do  things 
like  that,  but  Dan  is  wrapped  up  in  creature  comforts." 

To  Astrid  also  came  the  blessed  sense  that  the  worst 
was  over.  She  and  Oliver  had  met.  She  had  been 
spared  the  dread  of  having  to  explain  why  she  had 
come  to  meet  him,  the  unpleasantness  of  assuming  a 
quiet  friendliness  to  mask  her  shuddering  reluctance. 

He  had  not  been  unkind.  After  the  first  minute  of 
rather  disgusted  surprise,  he  had  done  what  he  could 
for  her. 

It  was  hard  that  she  should  have  so  disfiguring  an 
accident  at  the  very  moment  of  his  arrival.  It  was 
more  a  graze  than  a  cut,  right  upon  her  cheekbone. 
There  was  considerable  gravel  in  it,  but  this  Tessa 
had  washed  out,  and  had  bandaged  it  for  the  present 
with  a  chin  bandage  which  made  her  look  like  a  nun, 
though  a  nun  with  a  worldly  tress  of  fair  hair  escaping 
over  the  forehead. 

She  lay  down  upon  her  little  bed  and  closed  her  eyes 
in  sheer  exhaustion,  after  the  effort  of  putting  on  a 
clean  frock  and  having  her  bruises  discovered  and 
treated. 

Meanwhile,  out  of  doors,  Dan  rigged  up  the  ham- 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     155 

mock  for  her,  that  she  might  come  out  into  the  sweet 
air  to  have  tea. 

"  Go  and  fetch  her,"  said  Tessa  to  the  young  hus- 
band, when  all  was  ready.  "  Help  her  down  the  lad- 
der, and  put  her  into  the  hammock." 

Oliver  rose.  He  stood  staring  before  him  at  the 
broom-edged  rim  of  the  moor,  and  the  blue  sky  above 
it.  He  looked  at  his  pipe.  It  was  half  full,  but  me- 
chanically he  scooped  it  out,  dropped  it  into  his  pocket, 
and  turned  to  his  hostess. 

"May  I  go  in?  I  had  better  knock,  I  suppose," 
he  said.  He  could  not  help  showing  his  nervousness: 
and  Tessa  smiled.  "  O,  cheer  up,  she's  not  dying," 
she  said  shyly :  and  liked  him  the  better  for  flushing  up 
so  boyishly. 


CHAPTER  XV 

"In  love  as  in  life,  expectation  avails  us  but  little;  through 
loving  we  learn  to  love;  and  it  is  the  so-called  disillusions  of 
pettier  love  that  will,  the  most  simply  and  faithfully,  feed  the 
flame  of  the  mightier  love  that  shall  come,  it  may  be,  to  illumine 
the  rest  of  our  life." — MAETERLINCK. 

"  WHAT  a  good  thing  it  is,"  observed  Tessa,  as  she 
knelt  before  Astrid's  berth  to  have  her  blouse  fastened. 
"  that  it  is  my  morning  to  get  breakfast !  I  shall  bring 
you  yours,  and  then  have  plenty  of  time  to  help  you 
dress  before  we  start  for  church.  I  expect  Mr.  Bren- 
don  will  want  to  stay  and  take  care  of  you." 

Astrid  said  nothing  to  this  suggestion.  She  was 
still  feeling  shaken  and  unwell.  The  motor-wheel  had 
struck  her  just  upon  the  spine,  and  the  blow  had  no 
doubt  been  the  cause  of  her  faintness.  This  morning 
she  was  very  stiff,  more  so  than  on  the  preceding  day, 
though  she  was  most  unwilling  to  confess  it. 

The  weather  was  once  more  gloriously  fine,  and  she 
could  hear  the  laughter  and  chattering  as  Tessa  and  her 
Humphrey  prepared  breakfast,  chaffed  Martin,  and 
banged  upon  the  door  of  the  caravan  where  Dan  and 
Oliver  declined  to  be  aroused  so  early. 

She  made  a  valiant  attempt  to  eat  the  really  tempting 
contents  of  her  breakfast  tray;  but  her  appetite  was 
poor. 

Every  nerve  in  her  was  waiting  for  the  tap  at  the 
door  which  would  presently  warn  her  that  Oliver  stood 
outside,  ready  to  help  her  into  the  hammock.  When 

156 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      157 

at  last  it  came,  it  found  her  so  unprepared  that  she 
shook  in  every  limb.  She  must,  however,  invite  him 
in,  and  he  came,  grave  and  considerate,  avoiding  her 
eyes,  and  extremely  polite  in  his  inquiries  after  her 
health. 

She  could  not  say  that  she  felt  well,  but  was  earnest 
in  her  conviction  that  she  only  needed  a  few  days'  rest. 
"  It  is  all  right,"  she  said,  "  for  the  Selbys  want  to  stay 
at  least  a  week  in  this  camp,  and  I  shall  be  able  to 
write  from  dictation  quite  well,  even  though  I  have  to 
be  quiet  for  a  time." 

"  You  must  see  a  doctor,"  said  Oliver  quietly. 

"  O  no,  please !  "  she  begged  him. 

"  It  is  most  disagreeable  to  me  to  go  against  you 
in  anything  but  sheer  necessity,"  he  replied.  "  But 
somehow  I  must  get  a  doctor  for  you.  The  difficulty 
seems  to  be  that  there  is  no  good  doctor  short  of  Dor- 
mouth,  and  it  will  take  some  time  to  bring  him.  But 
I  will  get  Spence  to  go  in  his  car." 

"  O,  please  don't !     Please!" 

He  looked  distressed.  "  It  seems  to  me  that  I  must, 
and  as  I  said,  it  is  plainful  to  me  to  thwart  you,"  he 
told  her.  "  Could  you  try  to  make  up  your  mind  to 
it?" 

The  tears  rushed  to  her  eyes.  Hot  shame  at  such 
weakness  only  made  them  flow  the  faster.  She 
snatched  a  handkerchief  and  brushed  them  away.  "  I 
beg  your  pa'rdon,"  she  said  half  inaudibly.  "  Yes,  I 
am  sorry  to  be  so  contrary." 

"  That's  right.  May  I  help  you  up  ?  Why,  you  are 
moving  with  greater  difficulty  than  yesterday ! " 

"  Of  course,  naturally,  I  should  feel  stiffer  to-day," 
she  assured  him  eagerly. 

"  You  must  tell  me  if  I  hurt  you,"  he  directed,  as 


158     A    MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

he  put  his  arm  round  her.  "  Let  me  lower  you  to  the 
ground  in  the  doorway.  Sit  on  the  floor,  and  then  I 
can  pick  you  bodily  up  and  put  you  into  the  ham- 
mock." 

She  was  grateful  for  his  strength  and  his  impersonal, 
grave  manner.  "  Thank  you,"  she  said  from  her  heart, 
when  she  was  carefully  laid  down  among  the  cushions. 

They  all  stood  round  her,  full  of  anxiety,  and  Dan's 
blue  eyes  were  so  wistful  that  she  laughed  at  him. 
"Why,  Mr.  Selby,"  she  said,  "I'm  all  right!  Cheer 
up!" 

"  I  don't  like  it  at  all,"  said  Dan  gloomily.  "  You 
ought  never  to  have  been  asked  to  superintend  that 
incorrigible  dog.  Brendon  will  think  we  are  not  to 
be  trusted  with  you." 

"  He  is  more  likely  to  think  you  ought  not  to  be 
bothered  with  an  invalid,"  said  she  brightly.  "  This 
hammock  is  simply  luxury.  Could  I  be  in  a  better 
place?" 

"  The  thing  to  do,"  said  young  Spence  to  Oliver, 
"  is  for  me  to  put  her  in  the  car,  you  come  along,  and 
I'll  run  you  into  Dormouth  in  three-quarters  of  an 
hour,  or  less.  I  could  make  her  comfortable  with  a 
chair  or  something  to  raise  her  feet,  and  you  could  sit 
in  front  with  me." 

"  I  believe  it's  the  best  thing,"  said  Oliver,  looking 
at  his  wife  with  an  appeal  in  his  eyes  to  which  she 
responded  at  once. 

"  Yes,  O  yes,  if  you  really  think  I  ought !  " 

"  I  do,"  he  said,  with  manifest  relief. 

Dan's  eyes,  sharp  as  needle-points,  travelled  from 
husband  to  wife  and  back  —  wondering. 

"  I'll  have  the  machine  ready  in  half  an  hour,"  an- 
nounced Humphrey,  with  eager  goodwill,  taking  off  his 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      159 

coat  and  hastily  getting  into  his  oily  overalls.  "  I  left 
her  just  as  she  was  last  night,  so  I  must  tidy  her  up 
this  morning.  It  goes  against  me  to  take  out  a  dirty 
car." 

He  ran  to  where  the  motor  had  been  stationed,  and 
was  heard  whistling  as  he  worked.  Martin  went  to 
help  him,  Dan  joined  Tessa  to  wash  up.  The  Bren- 
dons  were  left  together. 

In  the  blue  above  a  lark  sang.  The  white  drift  of 
gulls'  wings  flashed  in  the  sun,  and  the  bees  droned 
among  the  gorse. 

Astrid  felt  that  she  must  make  an  effort  to  break 
through  the  odious  constraint  which  held  them  both. 
With  Sybil  as  her  ally,  she  could  venture  more:  alone, 
her  very  heart  quailed  before  the  shyness  she  felt,  the 
reluctance  to  invite  rebuff. 

The  necessity  for  establishing  some  kind  of  inter- 
course was,  however,  pressing.  After  a  pause,  in  which 
Oliver  sat  with  tightly-folded  lips,  gazing  under  the 
brim  of  his  Panama  at  the  distant  sea,  she  said  as 
naturally  as  she  could,  "  Won't  you  tell  me  a  little  of- 
fice news  ?  I  have  often  meant  to  ask  you  how  Prentis 
has  been  going  on  ?  " 

He  looked  up  with  an  obvious  desire  to  respond. 
Prentis  was  a  brilliant  but  unreliable  young  journal- 
ist, who  did  fine  work  when  he  was  sober,  but  had 
been  the  cause  of  some  mauvais  quarts  d'heure  in  the 
printer's  room,  by  reason  of  the  non-arrival  of  his  copy. 
Oliver  told  her  a  story  of  the  way  in  which  an  excited 
young  member  of  the  staff  had  dashed  down  Fleet 
Street  after  having  seen  Prentis  stroll  up  to  the  door 
of  the  office,  gaze  blankly  upon  it,  and  turn  away. 
Knowing  he  must  have  the  indispensable  article  —  one 
of  a  series  —  in  his  pocket,  but  guessing  that  he  was 


160      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

too  befogged  to  realise  that  he  had  not  delivered  it,  the 
energetic  youth  pursued  him  for  a  long  time  before  he 
caught  him,  in  the  act  of  pushing  his  article,  neither 
stamped  nor  enclosed  in  an  envelope,  into  the  slit  of 
a  pillar-box. 

The  story  made  Astrid  laugh.  She  knew  both  the 
pursuer  and  the  pursued,  and  the  notion  of  the  chase 
was  certainly  funny. 

"  I  miss  the  office,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh,  giving 
forth  the  words  without  reflection. 

"  I  often  wish  you  were  back  again,"  observed  Oliver, 
who  had  cut  a  sprig  of  gorse  and  was  paring  the  prickles 
from  its  stem  with  his  knife. 

The  double  edge  in  his  remark  occurred  to  him  the 
moment  he  had  said  it. 

"  I  could  hardly  go  back,"  faltered  Astrid. 

"  No.  You  couldn't  do  that.  Not  only  because  of 
—  of  your  relation  to  me,  but  because  I  don't  quite 
know  what  Marsh  has  got  up  his  sleeve." 

"  Marsh  ?  "  she  said,  with  a  quick,  apprehensive  look. 
"  Surely  he  is  perfectly  satisfied." 

"  So  he  says." 

"  Well  ? " 

He  told  her  the  incident  of  the  previous  day.  "  You 
know  what  these  millionaires  are.  They  are  as  keen 
as  mustard  one  week,  and  ready  to  sell  the  paper  next 
Saturday  morning.  I  heard  that  Marsh  was  huffy  at 
not  being  in  the  Birthday  Honours  List.  He  may  be 
intending  to  pay  out  the  Government  for  that  slip  by 
changing  the  political  colour  of  his  paper  —  who 
knows  ? " 

"  If  he  were  to  do  that,  you  would  resign  ?  "  she 
asked,  with  keen  interest. 

"  I  should  have  to.     I  could  not  edit  a  paper  with 


A    MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE      161 

whose  political  views  I  was  not  in  sympathy."  He 
had  forgotten  his  constraint  now,  and  was  talking  to 
her  as  he  used  to  talk  in  old  days. 

"  Marsh  is  half  American,"  he  continued,  "  and  has 
a  lot  of  American  notions.  You  remember  those  ar- 
ticles he  would  put  in,  by  the  fellow  from  California 
—  about  the  decay  of  Great  Britain,  and  with  the 
suggestion  that  as  soon  as  she  went  under,  her  job  would 
be  taken  over  by  that  devoted  daughter  country,  the  IT. 
S.  A.  ?  Well,  he  has  always  that  idea  at  the  back  of  his 
mind.  Anything  that  points  to  our  national  decadence 
attracts  him.  I  don't  trust  him  a  bit." 

"  It  makes  you  anxious  ? "  asked  Astrid  wistfully. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  have  always  known 
what  it  means  to  be  a  journalist.  I  am  better  off 
than  most.  I  walked  almost  straight  from  Oxford  into 
the  editorial  chair,  simply  because  Marsh's  son  was 
at  Balliol  with  me,  and  recommended  me  to  his 
father." 

"But  look  how  well  you  have  done!  If  Marsh 
should  be  so  foolish  as  to  let  you  go,  you  would  not 
be  long  without  something." 

He  smiled  with  scorn.  "  How  many  editorships  are 
there  going  ?  You  might  count  them  on  the  fingers  of 
your  hands !  How  many  young  Balliol  men  ready  and 
competent  to  step  in 

"Competent?"  cut  in  Astrid  scathingly. 

"Let  us  say,  as  competent  as  myself.  Well!  We 
won't  anticipate  misfortune.  But  I  don't  like  Marsh 
in  this  mood.  I  had  fully  intended  to  engage  ' 
berry '  for  our  art  criticisms,  which  I  have  never  been 
able  to  get  properly  done.  We  pay  twice  what  you  get 
from  the  Art  Companion." 

The  colour  rose  in  the  girl's  cheeks,  her  eyes  grew 


162     A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

suddenly  soft,  and  sparkled  with  pleasure.     Oliver  was 
not  looking  her  way,  but  out  across  the  sea. 

"But,  you  see,  I  don't  like  just  at  present  to  ask 
for  anything  that  sounds  at  all  like  a  favour,"  he  added. 

Before  she  could  reply,  Humphrey  came  hurrying 
up  to  say  that  the  car  awaited  their  pleasure.  Tessa 
and  Dan  appeared,  and  arranged  cushions  so  that  the 
invalid  might  recline  at  her  ease.  Oliver  lifted  her 
from  the  hammock  —  this  time  without  hesitation  and 
with  real  skill  —  laying  her  down  carefully  in  exactly 
the  right  place. 

He  then  took  his  own  seat  in  front,  beside  Hum- 
phrey, and  they  started  off,  gliding  along  so  smoothly 
that  she  was  well  able  to  endure  the  motion. 

As  they  slid  down  the  windings  of  the  long  hill,  and 
followed  the  coast  road,  Astrid's  heart  was  full  of  re- 
lief. She  had  not  merely  exchanged  some  natural  con- 
versation with  her  husband  —  finding  him  unexpectedly 
responsive  —  she  had  also  discovered  that  he  liked  her 
"  Dogberry  "  articles  —  liked  them  well  enough  to  wish 
to  secure  them  for  his  paper.  This  was  indeed  gratify- 
ing. Compared  with  what  she  had  suffered  during  the 
past  week,  her  present  state  was  almost  like  happiness. 

The  blue  sea,  with  hardly  a  wavelet  curling  in  upon 
the  sand,  seemed  to  laugh  to  her  with  unlimited  prom- 
ise. She  longed  to  be  well  and  able  to  go  and  bathe 
in  its  sun-warmed  shallows. 

They  arrived  at  Dormouth  easily  in  three-quarters 
of  an  hour,  going  softly  all  the  way.  Near  the  east 
end  of  the  town  stood  a  new  and  palatial  hotel,  and 
Humphrey  suggested  that  Oliver  should  go  in  and  in- 
quire where  the  best  doctor  in  the  place  was  to  be 
found. 

Oliver  willingly  consented,  and  strolled  to  the  lounge 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     163 

where  groups  of  visitors,  who  had  not  gone  to  morning 
service,  were  sitting  about  in  subdued  mood  out  of 
a  kind  of  unwilling  compliment  to  Sunday. 

The  waiter  whom  he  addressed  thought  that  Dr.  Gor- 
don had  changed  his  address  lately,  and  went  to  ascer- 
tain. Oliver  sat  down  a  moment,  gazing  out  from  the 
open  doors  to  the  sunlit  sea. 

Down  the  wide  stairs  behind  him  there  came  a  sylph- 
like  figure,  in  fantastically  fashioned  garments  of  great 
elegance.  Her  maid  followed  her,  with  silk  cushions 
and  a  rug  over  her  arm.  The  visitors  all  bestowed 
upon  her  a  most  flattering  rustle  and  soft  movement 
of  general  interest.  This  was  the  pretty,  delicate  young 
bride,  who  arrived  two  days  ago  with  a  devoted  bride- 
groom, and  went  about  in  a  Bath  chair.  Oliver  was 
too  abstracted  to  remark  upon  the  new  focus  of  atten- 
tion. 

Vivien,  as  she  came  down,  was  looking  round,  from 
end  to  end  of  the  lounge,  to  find  Calvert,  whom  she  had 
not  seen  since  breakfast.  She  saw  Oliver  Brendon  in- 
stead. 

For  a  moment  she  paused,  and  stood  looking  down 
upon  him.  An  awful  fear  shot  through  her.  Why 
was  he  there?  There  could  be  but  one  reason.  He 
had  come  to  pursue  her,  to  torture  her,  to  make  her 
present  discontent  greater  than  she  could  bear.  So  far 
as  she  could  see,  he  was  quite  alone. 

In  a  moment  her  resolution  was  taken.  u  I  feel  a 
little  faint,"  she  said  to  her  maid ;  "  I  will  go  back  to 
my  room  for  a  few  minutes." 

"  O  no,  ma'am !  go  down  into  the  lounge  and  sit  in 
the  air;  it  will  pass  off,"  said  the  maid,  offering  her  arm. 

But  Vivien  could  be  obstinate,  as  Therese  knew  to 
her  cost.  She  faced  about  deliberately  and  began  to 


164      A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

make  her  way  up  again.  Therese  suspected  some  rea- 
son for  her  flight.  The  maid  turned  her  head,  searched 
the  lounge,  and  saw  Mr.  Brendon. 

"  O,  mon  Dieu !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  It  is  he,  isn't  it  ?  "  panted  Vivien.  "  He  must  not 
see  me.  Let  me  go  upstairs;  you  stay  and  watch, 
Therese ;  tell  me  what  he  does." 

But  the  maid,  much  as  she  wished  to  watch,  knew 
better  than  to  let  her  mistress,  in  her  present  shaky 
state,  go  upstairs  alone.  If  Mr.  Railton  came  unex- 
pectedly on  the  scene  there  would  be  a  history!  He 
would  make  a  history  out  of  any  trifle!  She  had  al- 
ways heard  that  in  America  the  servants  were  as  good 
as  the  master  and  mistress,  but  if  so,  then  Mr.  Rail- 
ton  was  a  very  exceptional  American!  She  followed 
Vivien  back  to  the  large,  sunny,  first-floor  private  sit- 
ting-room, part  of  the  suite  engaged  by  the  rich  man. 

Vivien  was  hardly  there  before  she  was  sorry  that 
she  had  fled.  The  sight  of  Oliver  aroused  longings 
which  she  could  not  stifle.  He  was  there,  he  had  fol- 
lowed her,  he  must  be  in  despair.  Surely  she  might 
do  something  to  help  him,  or  pacify  him  —  something 
to  show  him  how  futile  it  was  to  war  with  Calvert 
when  he  had  made  up  his  mind. 

"  If  Calvert  found  out  that  he  was  here,  he  would 
punish  him  somehow,"  she  thought,  with  fear  in  her 
heart.  She  was  beginning  to  understand  some  of  the 
terrible  power  wielded  by  the  plutocracy. 

"  Therese,"  she  faltered  slowly,  "  I  will  write  him 
a  note  to  tell  him  to  go  away.  You  must  take  it." 

"Attention,  Madame"  whispered  Therese,  beating 
up  the  cushions  on  the  sofa,  "  Je  crois  que  Monsieur 
est  la  " —  pointing  to  the  door  of  an  inner  room  with 
a  motion  of  her  head. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      165 

Vivien  got  up  and  walked  across  the  room.  "  Cal- 
vert, are  you  there?"  she  said  clearly.  There  was 
no  reply.  She  went  over  to  the  writing-table  and  sat 
down.  The  maid  flitted  to  the  door  leading  to  the  cor- 
ridor, intending  to  close  it. 

"Ah,  pardon,  Monsieur,"  she  apologised,  drawing 
back  with  a  start  as  her  master  entered  through  it. 

"Mais  j'ai  bien  su  qu'il  etait  lout  pres,  quelque 
part,"  she  muttered  to  herself.  "  Est-ce  qu'il  vient  de 
monter?  En  ce  cas,  Us  se  sont  dejd  rencontres." 

Her  watchful  eyes  were  upon  Railton  as  he  entered, 
and  she  saw  his  gaze  fly  to  his  wife  and  fix  itself  upon 
her. 

"  Nearly  ready  for  your  promenade,  young  woman  ?  " 
he  asked  with  his  air  of  calm  indulgence. 

Vivien's  nerves  were  still  uncertain,  and  she  most  un- 
wisely started  at  his  voice. 

"I  —  I  was  just  coming,"  she  said,  closing  the  blot- 
ter and  rising  from  her  seat. 

"  No  hurry.  Not  the  least  in  the  world,"  he  said 
drawlingly.  "  Finish  your  note  while  I  light  a  cig- 
arette. Therese,  I'll  ring  when  I  want  you." 

"Service,  M'sieur"  Therese  vanished,  and  Vivien 
stood  up.  "I  am  quite  ready,  Calvert.  I  was  wait- 
ing about  for  you.  Where  were  you?" 

"  I  had  a  letter  to  write.  Sorry  you  waited.  Did 
you  look  for  me  downstairs  ? " 

"  I  haven't  been  downstairs." 

"  That  so  ?  Well,  finish  what  you  were  about,  won't 
you  ? " 

"  No.     I'm  ready,  if  you  are,  we'll  go." 

"  Good.  Let  me  take  your  rattle-traps  for  you ;  but 
first,  let  me  have  a  look  at  you.  Why,  I  do  believe  the 
sea  air  is  giving  you  a  bit  more  colour  already." 


166      A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

They  stood,  together  in  the  brilliant  sunlight  that 
poured  in  through  the  large  windows.  The  man  turned 
up  the  girl's  graceful  chin  with  his  hand,  until  her  face 
lay  open  to  his  keen  gaze.  His  eyes  seemed  to  plunge 
into  the  depths  of  hers,  to  fasten  upon  her  inmost 
thoughts.  The  blood  mantled  to  her  fair  face  in  car- 
mine waves  under  the  inquisition.  She  did  not  flinch, 
nor  oppose  his  action,  though  she  was  held  only  by 
the  light  touch  of  his  finger  under  her  chin.  After  a 
long  look,  which  seemed  to  her  to  last  for  ages,  he 
stooped,  without  eagerness,  but  with  a  deliberation 
which  had  the  effect  of  force,  and  set  his  lips  on  hers. 
She  quivered,  but  dared  not  move.  He  resisted  the 
impulse  which  tingled  in  him  to  catch  her  to  his  heart. 
He  would  not  try  her  too  far. 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear,"  he  said  drily,  as  he  raised 
his  head.  "  I  was  hungry  for  that,  and  you  were  very 
patient  with  me.  Now  come  along." 

They  walked  a  little  way  along  the  corridor.  Sud- 
denly he  stopped,  feeling  in  his  coat,  first  one  side,  then 
another.  "  Got  no  handkerchief,  wait  one  moment," 
he  said,  hastening  back  to  the  room  they  had  just  quitted. 
She  waited,  numbed  to  a  kind  of  stupor  by  the  kiss  she 
had  just  endured,  not  suspecting  anything. 

Railton  entered  the  sitting-room,  opened  the  blotter, 
caught  sight  of  the  sheet  of  paper,  and  the  words  so 
recently  scrawled  —  "  O,  Oliver,  why  have  you 
come " 

Very  quietly  he  closed  it  again,  and,  after  a  moment, 
during  which  he  gazed  thoughtfully  at  the  floor,  he 
rejoined  his  wife  in  the  corridor. 

They  passed  together  through  the  hall.  The  pres- 
ence which  had  so  disturbed  Vivien  was  there  no  longer. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

"  What  matter  —  what  matter  —  O  friend,  though  the  sea 

In  lines  of  silvery  fire  may  slide 
O'er  the  sands  so  tawny  and  tender  and  wide 

Murmuring  soft  as  a  bee  ?  " 

"No  matter,  no  matter,  in  sooth,"  said  he: 

"  But  the  sunlit  sands  and  the  silvery  play, 
Are  a  trustful  smile  long  past  away: 

—  No  more  to  me!  " — AJLFBED  DOMETT. 

DR.  GORDON  lived  upon  the  sea  front.  When  Hum- 
phrey had  deposited  the  husband  and  wife  at  his  door, 
he  drove  on,  up  to  the  station,  whence  Tessa  had  bidden 
him  bring  a  parcel  of  grocery  stores.  It  was  arranged 
that  he  should  pick  up  the  Brendons,  on  the  parade,  as 
he  returned. 

Oliver,  when  his  wife  had  disappeared  into  the  doc- 
tor's room,  that  her  injury  might  be  examined  and  diag- 
nosed, himself  went  out  of  doors  into  the  sunshine. 
His  mind  was  ill  at  ease.  Suppose  the  apparently  triv- 
ial accident  were  to  have  serious  results  —  that  Astrid 
were  to  become  a  chronic  invalid  ?  As  he  reflected  upon 
the  effects  of  such  a  state  of  things,  he  found  that  his 
regrets  were  not  entirely  selfish.  He  was  thinking, 
partly,  how  it  would  irk  a  creature  so  independent,  so 
determined  to  stand  alone,  were  she  to  find  herself  per- 
manently disabled. 

As  the  minutes  wore  on,  they  seemed  to  him  unduly 
prolonged.  The  doctor  was  taking  a  long  time.  He 
hoped  she  was  not  being  hurt.  He  could  picture  her 
face,  white  and  tense,  and  how  she  would  suffer  to  the 

167 


168      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

last  extreme  sooner  than  cry  out.  How  did  he  know 
this  ?  He  did  not  pause  to  ask ;  but  during  those  mo- 
ments of  waiting  there  was  born  in  him  a  vague  feel- 
ing of  championship,  as  though  he  stood  on  Astrid's 
side  and  protested  against  her  being  called  upon  to  suf- 
fer. 

He  looked  at  his  watch.  Only  ten  minutes,  after 
all.  A  very  long  ten  minutes.  He  leaned  against 
the  rail  which  edged  the  landward  side  of  the  prome- 
nade and  watched  the  open  door  of  the  doctor's  house, 
whence  the  man-servant  had  promised  to  signal  to  him 
when  Mrs.  Brendon  came  out  of  the  consulting-room. 

A  step  sounded  quite  near  him,  and  a  man  stopped 
close  at  his  side.  He  turned  and  found  himself  con- 
fronting Calvert  Railton. 

"  Mr.  Brendon  ?  Is  that  you  ?  "  said  the  American. 
The  words  were  friendly,  almost  intimate;  the  tone 
was  frigid. 

Oliver  was  so  suddenly  snatched  from  thoughts  not 
at  all  concerned  with  the  Railtons  that  he  was  for  a 
moment  really  taken  aback.  He  stared  at  the  speaker 
in  confusion,  which  only  the  knowledge  of  the  cold, 
watchful  blue  eyes  upon  him  enabled  him  to  control. 

"  This  is  astonishing,"  he  stammered.  "  I  thought 
you  had  sailed." 

Railton  never  removed  his  gaze  for  an  instant. 
"  Did  you  ?  "  he  said.  Had  his  words  been  — "  You 
lie,"  he  could  hardly  have  made  his  meaning  more 
plain. 

"  Changed  your  plans,  I  suppose  ? "  asked  Oliver, 
roused  to  answer  with  a  demeanour  to  match.  He  spoke 
as  if  the  question  did  not  interest  him  in  the  least. 

"  Our  change  of  plans  was  pretty  widely  announced 
in  the  papers,"  remarked  Railton  deliberately. 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     169 

"  Indeed  ?  "  said  Brendon,  looking  him  up  and  down. 
"  I  own  to  a  lack  of  interest  in  fashionable  intelligence." 

Eailton  examined  the  cigar  he  was  smoking,  as  though 
something  about  its  tip  had  become  interesting.  "  Mak- 
ing a  long  stay  here  ?  " 

Oliver,  now  fully  alive  to  his  meaning,  and  resenting 
it  with  all  his  force,  was  determined  not  to  enlighten 
him.  "  I  have  no  idea,"  he  replied  carelessly.  "  Are 
you  ? " 

"Leaving  to-morrow,"  replied  Eailton  at  once,  re- 
placing his  cigar  in  his  mouth.  "The  place  doesn't 
suit  my  wife." 

"  Pity,"  was  all  that  Oliver  vouchsafed. 

He  did  not  change  his  attitude,  nor  move  from  the 
spot.  He  thought  Eailton  impertinent  and  insuffer- 
able, but  he  was  not  going  to  put  himself  out  on  that 
account.  The  coast  of  England  is  free  to  all,  and  if 
Eailton  were  such  a  Bluebeard  that  his  wife  must  be 
kept  under  lock  and  key,  that  was  his  concern,  by  no 
means  that  of  Oliver  Brendon. 

"  How  do  you  like  that  New  Palace  Hotel  ? "  pur- 
sued Eailton,  after  a  short  silence. 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it." 

"Never  stayed  there?" 

"Never." 

Eailton's  eye  again  expressed  disbelief  almost  as 
offensively  as  if  his  lips  had  spoken  it.  But  Oliver 
hardly  felt  resentful.  He  was  secretly  relishing  the 
thought  that  poor  Eailton  imagined  him  to  be  in  Dor- 
mouth  in  pursuit  of  Vivien.  He  felt  a  momentary  im- 
pulse to  remark  that  he  personally  had  no  use  for  other 
men's  wives,  but  he  did  not  consider  the  American  en- 
titled even  to  the  measure  of  relief  which  such  a  re- 
mark might  bring  him.  Let  him  think  what  he  chose. 


170      A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

At  the  moment  the  man-servant  appeared  at  the  op- 
posite door,  signalling  to  him  that  his  wife's  ordeal  was 
over.  He  turned  to  Railton,  whose  eye  had  remained 
fixed  upon  his  face,  and  who  had  therefore  failed  to 
see  the  summons  he  had  received. 

"Well,  good  day  to  you,  I  have  an  appointment  to 
keep,"  he  said,  with  a  little  nod,  and  strolled  away 
across  the  road  into  the  doctor's  house. 

Eailton,  after  watching  him  disappear,  walked  back 
some  short  way  along  the  parade  to  the  shelter  where 
he  had  left  Vivien  and  her  Bath  chair  facing  the  danc- 
ing sea. 

"  Why,  wherever  have  you  been,  Calvert,"  asked  the 
bride  pettishly,  "  leaving  me  all  alone  ?  " 

"  Sorry,  darling,  I  caught  sight  of  a  man  I  know, 
and  I  just  passed  the  time  of  day  with  him." 

She  fixed  her  big,  wistful  eyes  upon  his  face  with  a 
suspicion  which  died  away  as  she  saw  his  composure. 
"  -Who  was  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  A  very  slight  acquaintance.  By  the  way,  do  you 
like  this  place,  Vivi  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do.  It  is  sunny  and  gay,  and  plenty  to  do 
and  to  look  at,"  replied  the  spoilt  child. 

"And  that  thing  they  call  a  hotel,  you  can  put  up 
with  it  ? " 

"Why,  of  course,  Cal.  That's  the  worst  of  being 
so  rich,  you  are  always  thinking,  wherever  you  are, 
that  you  might  do  better  and  be  more  comfortable 
elsewhere!  Besides,  there's  no  other  really  nice  hotel 
in  this  place,  is  there  ? " 

"  I'm  told  the  George  III  is  comfortable,  though 
old-fashioned." 

"  But  it's  not  so  near  the  sea.  I  want  to  stay  where 
we  are.  I  shall  hate  it  if  you  are  always  so  fidgety." 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      171 

"  I  only  want  you  to  be  happy,  little  girl." 

"  Well,  let  me  get  well  here  in  the  sun.  I've  planned 
to  have  hot  sea-water  baths  to-morrow." 

He  gave  it  up.  To  move  her  suddenly,  after  this, 
would  be  to  let  her  understand  why.  And  he  had  told 
Brendon  that  they  were  leaving  next  day.  That  ought 
to  be  enough  for  him.  He  could  hardly  be  down  here 
for  more  than  the  week-end. 

After  some  meditation  he  suggested  motoring  to  the 
ruined  castle,  twenty  miles  inland,  after  lunch,  and  hav- 
ing tea  there.  She  assented,  though  without  much  en- 
thusiasm. As  she  leaned  back,  scanning  the  passers-by, 
her  restless  eyes,  straying  everywhere,  told  him  her 
secret  most  explicitly. 

His  heart  was  hot  with  wrath  against  the  man  who 
could  behave  with  such  mingled  folly  and  brutality. 
Himself  barely  six  weeks  married,  Oliver  Brendon 
could  come  to  this  place  in  pursuit  of  another  man's 
wife. 

Well,  there  was  a  way  in  which  he  could  punish  him. 
It  had  been  confronting  him  for  several  weeks  past, 
but  he  had  decided  that  he  could  not  take  it.  He  had 
felt,  beyond  all  things,  constrained  to  behave  well  to 
the  man  whose  betrothed  he  had  stolen  away  from  him. 
Brendon's  present  line  of  conduct,  however,  changed 
the  affair  completely. 

He  had  seen  him  in  the  hotel  that  morning.  Com- 
ing out  from  the  writing-room,  he  had  marked  him 
seated  there,  waiting.  Going  upstairs,  he  had  sur- 
prised his  wife  writing  a  note  —  her  maid  in  readiness 
to  carry  it.  He  had  actually  read  the  beginning  of  the 
note.  Later,  he  found  the  man  hanging  about  the  sea- 
front,  probably  on  the  watch  for  the  appearance  of 
Therese,  with  a  verbal  message,  if  not  a  note.  His  man- 


172      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

ner,  when  addressed,  had  been  such  as  to  confirm  every 
suspicion. 

His  intention  of  injuring  Brendon  grew  to  a  fixed 
determination. 

Meanwhile,  Oliver  had  hastened  across  the  road  and 
entered  the  house,  so  eager  to  hear  the  verdict,  that  his 
meeting  with  Railton,  and  the  consequent  thought  that 
Vivien  was  in  Dormouth,  receded  to  the  background 
of  his  mind.  As  he  entered,  he  was  conscious  of  winc- 
ing from  the  idea  that  he  might  have  to  hear  serious 
news.  His  quick  steps  lagged  suddenly. 

Astrid,  white  and  nervous,  was  standing  in  the  wide 
passage,  fastening  her  gloves. 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  an  air  of  apology.  "  I 
am  very  sorry,"  she  said  with  embarrassment,  "but 
the  doctor  wants  to  see  you." 

Her  voice  was  unsteady,  he  could  see  how  the  awk- 
ward situation  was  mortifying  her.  The  doctor's  desire 
to  see  him  made  him  sure  that  there  was  something  se- 
rious to  communicate. 

The  compassion  for  his  wife  which  he  had  so  con- 
sistently refused  her  hitherto  rushed  over  him.  Her 
nervousness  dissipated  his  own. 

"  Cheer  up,"  he  said,  more  gently  than  she  had  ever 
heard  him  speak,  "  we  shall  cure  you,  whatever  it  may 
be  —  we'll  find  a  way."  He  led  her  into  the  waiting- 
room,  which  was  empty,  and  put  her  into  an  easy  chair. 
"  Keep  up  heart,"  he  told  her  kindly,  "  I  won't  be  long." 

He  went  out  instantly,  as  though  to  force  himself 
to  face  the  news  which  awaited  him  before  his  cour- 
age failed. 

Astrid  remained,  her  heart  full  to  overflowing  of  a 
totally  new  kind  of  unhappiness.  Hitherto,  Oliver's 
behaviour  had  been  so  unfeeling  that  her  pride  had 


A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE      173 

upheld  her.  She  would  not  pity  him  because,  she 
told  herself,  he  did  not  deserve  it.  But  if  he  was  going 
to  turn  kind  —  kind  to  the  woman  to  whom  he  was  so 
wholly  indifferent  —  she  thought  things  would  become 
unbearable. 

Dr.  Gordon  raised  his  eyes  as  the  young  husband 
entered  his  sanctum. 

"  H'm !  Ha !  Mr.  Brendon,  I  presume.  Well, 
Mr.  Brendon,  I  have  no  wish  to  alarm  you  unnecessar- 
ily." Oliver  set  his  lips,  and  the  doctor  checked  himself 
and  hesitated. 

"  Please  tell  me  straight  out,"  said  Oliver,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  My  dear  sir,  there  is  nothing  in  the  nature  of  aw- 
ful news  —  nothing  to  '  break '  to  you,"  replied  the  doc- 
tor, smiling  slightly.  "  The  point  is  that  Mrs.  Bren- 
don seems  to  be  suffering  more  than  is  accounted  for  by 
so  slight  a  blow.  Her  nerves  are  in  a  state  of  ex- 
tremely high  tension.  I  put  down  her  condition  to 
shock.  She  was  flung  down,  she  tells  me,  and  also  she 
was  horrified  at  the  dog-fight.  She  seems  to  have  shown 
great  pluck  and  promptitude  in  separating  the  dogs, 
but  I  cannot  resist  the  conclusion  that  what  she  is  suf- 
fering is  not  altogether  the  result  of  the  accident.  I 
did  not  like  to  ask  her  whether  she  herself  could  account 
for  the  state  of  her  nervous  system.  She  tells  me  she 
has  been  married  only  a  few  weeks." 

Oliver  looked  at  the  carpet. 

"There  is  a  reason,"  he  said  quietly.  "My  wife 
has  been  through  a  very  trying  time.  I  need  not  ex- 
plain to  you  more  fully,  but  circumstances  have  been 
such  as  might  easily  conduce  to  a  nervous  state.  The 
thing  is  that  she  has  so  much  self-control  that  I  have 
not  been  aware  of  it." 


174     A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

"  Exactly.  She  has  imposed  even  upon  you.  She 
has  been  controlling  herself  at  the  expense  of  her  nerv- 
ous system.  If  this  blow  should  set  up  neuritis  in 
the  spine,  she  may  suffer  tortures.  If  not  indiscreet,  I 
should  like  to  know  if  there  is  reasonable  probability  that 
she  will  be  more  at  ease  in  her  mind  for  the  future  ?  " 

There  was  a  pause.  "  I  think  I  may  promise  it," 
said  Oliver  then.  "  If  I  had  realised  how  much  it  all 
meant  to  her !  —  But  I  did  not  know.  Now  that  I 
know,  I  will  make  every  effort.  She  is  not  at  all  what 
you  call  hysterical." 

"  No.  She  has  too  much  fortitude.  That  is  the  dif- 
ficulty. She  will  never  let  you  know  what  she  wants 
nor  why  she  is  breaking  her  heart.  You  must  find  out. 
You  are  the  only  person  who  can." 

"  Am  I  ? "  said  Oliver  doubtfully. 

The  doctor  smiled  humorously.  "My  dear  sir,  she 
has  married  you.  I  am  sure  that  she  would  not  have 
done  so  without  adoring  you,  as  I  am  sure  that  nine 
young  women  out  of  every  ten  would  marry  the  first 
man  that  asked  them !  There !  Be  as  horrified  as  you 
like  at  my  cynicism.  I  have  a  large  practice  among 
the  hysterical  young  ladies,  who  come  here  by  the  dozen ! 
I  was  called  in  yesterday  to  the  bride  of  an  American 
millionaire  who  has  just  arrived.  Her  nerves  are  all 
to  pieces,  because,  so  he  tells  me,  she  thought  she  had 
treated  another  man  badly.  I  told  her  husband  he  need 
not  worry.  Whatever  man  happens  to  be  on  the  spot 
will  be  the  man  for  her.  Out  of  sight,  out  of  mind! 
Before  she  has  crossed  the  Atlantic  she  will  have  set- 
tled down  if  he  is  kind  to  her;  and  he  seems  to  be  in 
love  all  right.  But  for  the  creature  with  whom  you 
have  to  deal,  it  is  far  otherwise.  She  is  a  woman  who 
will  cling  to  an  ideal,  and  stand  or  fall  with  it.  I 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      175 

should  say  her  happiness  is  entirely  in  your  hands." 

Again  Oliver  did  not  at  once  reply.  His  brain  was 
whirling.  At  last  — "  I  will  do  all  I  can,"  he  said 
simply.  "  Tell  me  what  to  do." 

"  Let  her  be  happy,  satisfied,  content.  She  tells  me 
that  she  is  caravanning,  and  at  first  I  was  inclined  to 
stop  that  at  once.  But  she  seems  to  be  enjoying  it,  arid 
the  weather  is  perfect,  so  I  do  not  think  I  would  cross 
her  if  I  were  you.  Only  see  that  she  takes  no  chill. 
Here  are  my  prescriptions,  and  you  can  get  them  made 
up  at  Evans's,  just  round  the  corner.  I  shall  motor  out 
to  see  her  in  two  days'  time,  and  it  is  possible  that  I 
might  recommend  a  warm  climate  if  this  weather  should 
break.  Could  you  manage  that  \  " 

"  Certainly.  I  have  not  yet  had  my  annual  holiday, 
and  I  can  take  her  anywhere  you  think  best ;  or  if  not, 
my  mother  could.  She  is  attached  to  my  mother." 

"  Excellent !  And  you  think  there  will  be  no  re- 
currence of  the  distress  or  strain  from  which  she  has 
evidently  suffered  ? " 

"  I  think  not.     I  hope  not.     I  will  do  all  I  can." 

"  She  had  better  lie  in  the  hammock  for  the  next 
few  days,"  said  the  doctor.  "  I  have  encouraged  her 
to  think  that,  if  she  does  that,  the  chances  are  that  she 
will  be  all  right  —  the  symptoms  will  pass  off  —  but  I 
own  to  you  that  the  contrary  may  take  place  —  the 
pain  may  increase." 

"You  think  she  is  in  pain?" 

"  Undoubtedly  she  is  in  considerable  pain,  and  has 
been  so  since  the  accident.  If  you  can  induce  a  state 
of  tranquil  happiness  without  apprehensions,  for  the 
next  week,  it  will  probably  turn  the  scale  in  her  favour." 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  repeated  the  young  man,  in  a 
tone  expressing  a  fixed  determination. 


CHAPTEK  XVII 

But  did  one  touch  of  such  love  for  me 
Come  in  a  word  or  a  look  of  yours, 
Whose  words  and  looks  will,  circling,  flee 
Round  me  and  round  while  life  endures, — 
Could  I  fancy  "  As  I  feel,  thus  feels  He!  " 

EOBEET  BBOWNING. 

As  lie  emerged  from  the  consulting-room,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life  Sybil's  spoilt  child  arranged  his  features 
with  the  view  of  producing,  in  another  person,  the  ef- 
fect he  desired,  of  comfort  and  good  cheer. 

He  went  into  the  waiting-room  with  a  smile  which 
he  bravely  maintained,  in  face  of  the  appeal  in  As- 
trid's  eyes. 

"  It's  splendid,"  he  assured  her  undauntedly.  "  The 
doctor  thinks  you  ought  to  be  all  right  by  the  end  of 
the  week,  if  you  do  what  you  are  told.  How  glad  I  am 
that  I  insisted  upon  your  seeing  him !  " 

He  watched  the  thoughts  sail  by  behind  her  eyes. 
He  saw  her  bewilderment  at  his  sudden  access  of  in- 
terest in  her;  embarrassment  followed  hard  upon  it: 
and  behind  lay  a  sorrow  so  infinitely  deep  that  a  con- 
viction of  never  being  able  to  reach  it  smote  him  sud- 
denly and  brought  a  lump  into  his  throat. 

"  Will  you  sit  here,"  he  begged,  "  while  I  take  these 
papers  to  the  chemist  ?  The  doctor  says  it's  only  just 
round  the  corner,  and  I  will  come  back  for  you  in  half 
a  minute.  Here,"  he  felt  in  his  pocket.  "  I  have  got 
Cawthorne's  new  book,  it  came  on  Saturday  for  re- 
view. Amuse  yourself  with  that  for  a  few  minutes." 

176 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     177 

He  received  a  wavering  smile,  half  gratitude,  half 
uncertainty,  as  he  ran  off  with  the  two  prescriptions. 

The  chemist's  shop  lay  a  little  nearer  the  Palace 
Hotel  than  Dr.  Gordon's  house,  in  a  street  running  up 
from  the  sea.  As  he  emerged  from  the  side  door,  hav- 
ing completed  his  errand,  and  came  down  towards  the 
sea  front,  Vivien's  Bath  chair,  and  Railton  in  attend- 
ance, were  just  crossing  the  road. 

They  met  face  to  face.  He  pulled  off  his  hat  and 
bowed,  but  the  idea  of  stopping  to  speak  did  not  oc- 
cur to  him.  He  was  chiefly  preoccupied  with  the  hope 
that  Astrid  would  not  encounter  these  people.  His 
keen  anxiety  that  no  untoward  happenings  should  now 
disturb  her,  rose  to  the  surface  of  his  thought.  He 
had  a  moment  of  hot  embarrassment,  but  was  conscious 
of  nothing  like  despair. 

He  found  his  wife  better  prepared  upon  his  return 
to  her.  She  received  him  with  composure.  He  led 
her  out  upon  the  parade,  and  they  sat  down  to  wait  for 
the  reappearance  of  Humphrey  Spence.  He  talked  of 
anything  that  came  uppermost.  "  I'm  to  call  at  the 
chemist's  for  the  stuff  in  ten  minutes.  How  did  you 
like  the  doctor  ?  He  says  perhaps  he  shall  send  you 
abroad,  and  I  told  him  I  could  manage  that  all  right. 
I  could  take  my  holiday  any  time  now,  with  a  fort- 
night to  arrange  things." 

Astrid  reddened  and  looked  extremely  uncomfortable. 
"  O,  I  could  not  spoil  your  holiday !  It  won't  be  nec- 
essary for  me  to  go  away.  I  am  having  my  holiday 
now." 

He  was  pulled  up  short.  The  thought  of  all  his 
previous  behaviour  to  this  girl  rushed  upon  his  mind. 
How  could  he  have  thought  that  a  readjustment  of  the 
wretched  business  could  be  thus  easily  achieved? 


178      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"  You  would  rather  I  did  not  come  ?  "  he  said  bluntly, 
or  rather,  muttered  it,  with  a  mighty  red  face  and  down- 
cast eyes. 

"  O  no,  not  that !  But  I  mean  —  O  what  is  the  use 
of  talking  ?  "  she  faltered,  swallowing  tears. 

Here  was  vexation  indeed !  The  very  kind  of  agita- 
tion which  the  doctor  forbade  was  taking  possession  of 
her.  What  could  he  do  ?  He  could  not  say  to  her,  "  I 
beg  and  implore  you  to  be  happy,  and  I  will  pretend  to 
be  fond  of  you,  so  that  your  recovery  may  not  be  hin- 
dered!" 

He  bent  down  to  her,  his  arms  round  his  knees. 
"  Astrid  —  won't  you  let  me  do  anything  at  all  to  show 
I'm  sorry  I  was  such  a  brute  to  you  the  other  night? 
I  didn't  know  what  I  was  saying.  I  was  at  my  worst. 
I  want  to  tell  you  that.  I  feel  such  a  hound  I  am 
ashamed  to  talk  to  you  —  won't  you  make  it  a  bit  easier 
for  me  ? " 

He  knew  she  was  retracing  in  fancy  the  long,  bitter 
series  of  slights,  the  coldness,  the  neglect  she  had  re- 
ceived at  his  hands.  As  he  thought  of  it  now,  sud- 
denly, from  her  standpoint,  he  grew  hot  all  over,  and 
so  humiliated  that  he  bit  his  lip.  "  Ah !  "  he  said,  "  I 
see  that's  asking  a  great  deal  too  much.  All  right. 
I'll  stand  anything  you  choose  to  put  on  me.  Only 
we  must  keep  up  appearances  while  we're  with  these 
folk,  I  suppose." 

"  O  don't!  "  was  all  she  said ;  and  he  felt  a  desperate 
consciousness  of  his  singular  failure  to  induce  that 
mood  of  tranquillity  upon  which  her  medical  adviser 
laid  such  stress.  The  hoot  of  Humphrey's  motor  put 
a  stop  to  the  distressing  conversation.  Astrid  was  re- 
placed upon  her  cushions,  and  they  went  a  short  run 
out  upon  the  cliffs  at  the  other  end  of  the  little  town  to 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      179 

give  her  the  view.  Then  they  returned,  called  at  the 
chemist's,  took  up  their  parcel,  and  sped  rapidly  home- 
wards. 

They  got  back  into  camp  just  in  time  for  lunch. 
Oliver  now,  as  a  matter  of  course,  possessed  himself 
of  his  wife,  and  carried  her  to  the  hammock. 

"  The  doctor  said  she  might  sit  up  to  her  meals,"  he 
announced  in  triumph.  "  But  she  is  to  keep  lying  down 
mostly,  until  he  sees  her  again." 

Tessa  was  eager  to  know  the  treatment  prescribed, 
and  professed  herself  quite  equal  to  all  that  might  be 
needed  in  the  way  of  applying  embrocation  and  ad- 
ministering medicine.  Oliver,  looking  upon  all  around 
him  with  a  new  eye,  observed  for  the  first  time  the  ex- 
pression in  Dan's  emotional  face.  The  big  man  was 
watching  the  fragile  Astrid  as  if  she  interested  him 
profoundly.  His  gaze  travelled  from  husband  to  wife. 
He  was  tingling  to  beg  Brendon  to  tell  him,  in  confi- 
dence, what  the  doctor  had  said,  yet  feeling  that  he  had 
no  claim  to  know. 

Oliver,  however,  had  determined  to  take  Tessa  partly 
into  confidence.  He  himself  must  needs  depart  the 
following  morning,  having  made  no  arrangements  for 
absence.  He  hoped  to  be  able  to  come  down  again  be- 
fore the  end  of  the  week,  but  go  he  must.  Therefore  he 
must  leave  a  competent  lieutenant  behind  him. 

He  said  nothing  for  the  present,  but  threw  himself 
into  the  talk  at  lunch  with  a  vivacity  and  keenness  which 
surprised  the  Selbys.  He  had  been  monosyllabic  the 
night  before.  They  concluded  that  he  must  have  been 
much  upset  by  the  accident,  and  that  the  doctor  had 
reassured  him  completely. 

It  was  quite  curious  how  keenly  he  felt  the  necessity 
of  averting  the  unfavourable  developments  which  might 


180      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

arise  if  lie  were  unable  to  compose  Astrid's  mind.  He 
bent  his  whole  intelligence  upon  the  question.  He  had 
been  terribly  serious  in  his  love-making  with  Vivien. 
The  possibility  that  he  had  been  too  serious  now  pre- 
sented itself  for  the  first  time.  Be  that  as  it  might, 
he  had  the  penetration  to  see  that  all  serious  avenues 
of  approach  between  himself  and  his  wife  were  closed. 
He  might  go  to  her  and  say,  "  I  repent."  But  that 
would  bring  them  no  nearer.  She  knew,  for  certain, 
that  he  had  never  loved  her.  The  fact  of  his  regret  — 
of  his  remorse,  if  you  like  to  call  it  so  —  might  sadden, 
but  it  could  not  melt  her.  It  only  emphasised  the  gulf 
between  them. 

But  as  they  lunched  and  talked,  lightly  and  idly,  there 
came  to  him  a  gleam  of  hope,  a  gossamer  suggestion. 
He  might  take  refuge  in  frivolity.  He  might  establish 
some  kind  of  fellowship  by  medium  of  the  kind  of  chafi 
which  makes  for  intimacy. 

In  old  days,  in  the  office,  he  remembered  how  he 
had  appreciated  her  humorous  comments  upon  men  and 
things.  Often  her  keen  sense  had  seized  upon  some 
article  in  a  paper  politically  opposed,  had  seen  its  weak- 
ness, had  pointed  out  to  him  a  line  of  ironical  attack. 
Hidden  behind  that  fortitude  which  the  doctor  had 
spoken  of,  there  was  a  store  of  fun,  could  one  but  get 
at  it. 

He  considered  this  silently,  while  talk  rolled  on.  It 
happened  to  turn  upon  psychical  subjects,  which  did  not 
seem  at  all  suitable  to  his  purpose.  They  were  not  far 
from  the  old  manor  farm  where  the  Screaming  Skull  is 
kept,  and  they  were  planning  a  visit  there.  Oliver  was 
amused  to  find  how  every  person  present  took  the  story 
from  his  or  her  own  point  of  view.  Martin  gave  it  as 
his  opinion  that  the  occult  was  absolutely  useless  for 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      181 

stage  purposes.  The  inference  seemed  to  be  that  it 
was,  in  consequence,  of  no  use  at  all.  Humphrey  said, 
calmly  and  definitely,  that  all  ghost-stories  were  rot. 
Tessa  fell  upon  him  tooth  and  nail,  and  told  him  that 
he  was  hopelessly  ignorant,  furthermore,  out-of-date; 
and  in  conclusion,  obscurantist:  which  last  accusation 
was,  as  Humphrey  pointed  out,  unanswerable,  because 
nobody  could  understand  it.  Dan  following,  gave  it  as 
his  view  that  you  needed  to  treat  such  things  in  fiction 
very  sparingly.  One  story  of  the  occult  stimulates  the 
imagination.  A  series  is  always  a  mistake. 

"  Yes,"  mused  Astrid  aloud,  "  one  sees  that.  The 
supernormal  is  the  exceptional.  If  it  were  not  ex- 
ceptional, it  would  cease  to  be  supernormal,  it  would 
belong  to  the  ordinary  course  of  things.  A  book  filled 
with  ghost-stories  destroys  the  exceptional  feeling.  In 
tale  after  tale  you  foresee  that  a  ghost  will  appear,  or 
something  uncanny  is  just  about  to  happen;  and  one 
knows  that  this  is  never  really  so:  the  shock  of  such 
an  experience  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  is  unexpected." 

"  That's  it,"  said  Dan  at  once.  "  Of  course,  you  put 
the  thing  in  a  nutshell." 

Oliver  again  observed,  with  a  distinct  feeling  of 
gratification,  the  respect  for  his  wife's  opinion  man- 
ifested by  the  novelist.  "  Martin  says  that  stories  of 
the  supernormal  are  of  no  use,"  he  said,  carrying  on  the 
discussion.  "  What  do  you  mean  by  no  use,  Martin  ? 
I  conclude  you  must  mean  of  no  material  use:  you 
can't  make  money  out  of  it.  But  if  these  things  occur, 
it  is  surely  useful  to  have  some  theory  to  account  for 
them." 

"  Well,  but  what  nonsense  it  all  is,"  cried  Humphrey. 
"  A  negro  servant  is  murdered  by  his  master,  and  his 
skull  concealed  in  a  bricked-up  well.  The  skull  screams 


182      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

if  you  attempt  to  carry  it  out  of  the  house.  How  many 
negro  slaves  have  been  murdered  since  the  world  began  ? 
If  they  all  took  to  screaming  you  wouldn't  be  able  to 
hear  yourself  speak." 

"  You  might  as  well  argue,"  said  Astrid,  at  once, 
"  that  the  systems  of  wireless  telegraphy  would  make 
such  a  noise  that  we  can't  hear  ourselves  speak.  The 
conditions  under  which  wireless  telegraphy  can  make 
itself  audible  have  to  be  carefully  arranged.  The  con- 
ditions under  which  the  supernormal  becomes  evident 
seem  to  us  accidental ;  but  as  we  don't  know  at  present 
what  causes  join  to  produce  such  results,  they  may  be 
just  as  scientifically  regular  as  the  flashes  of  a  light- 
house. It  is  because  we  don't  understand  that  we  think 
of  them  as  random  things,  arbitrary,  fitful,  and  only 
occasional." 

"  Their  being  occasional  is  what  makes  them  so 
fascinating,"  cried  Tessa. 

"  The  whole  thing  is  fascinating,"  went  on  Astrid, 
with  manifest  eagerness.  "  Doesn't  it  come  over  us 
all,  from  time  to  time,  the  feeling  of  how  clumsy  human 
ways  of  communication  are  ?  I  mean,  of  course,  speech 
and  action.  You  never  can  put  into  words  any  central 
thing  that  you  feel.  You  know  that  you  want  some 
other  medium,  some  way  for  one  soul  to  reach  another. 
I  wonder  that  people  don't  go  in  for  it  much  more 
thoroughly  than  they  do.  The  wireless  telegraphy  seems 
to  have  given  the  key.  If  you  could  tune  two  souls  to 
one  another  exactly,  they  could  converse  without  speech, 
I  believe." 

"  They  have  found  out  one  or  two  things,"  said  Dan. 
"  For  instance,  the  moment  at  which  you  are  likely  to 
receive  the  sort  of  message  which  I  think  you  have  in 
mind,  is  the  moment  when  you  are  perfectly  passive  — 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      183 

when  your  mind  is  pursuing  no  special  train  of  thought 
—  when  you  are  awake,  but  mentally  and  bodily  idle. 
That  is  why  so  many  cases  of  apparition  occur  when 
people  are  in  bed." 

"  They  all  occur  either  when  you're  asleep  or  when 
you're  drunk,  Dan,"  observed  Humphrey,  with  a  grin. 

"  They  never  occur  at  all,  to  folks  who  live  wholly 
on  the  material  plane,"  replied  Dan  scornfully. 
"  Tessa,  I'm  sorry  for  you.  I've  said  so  before,  and 
I  say  it  again.  You  have  to  spend  the  whole  of  your 
future  life  with  a  clod  —  a  mere  clod.  Reconsider  it 
while  there  is  yet  time." 

"  There  isn't  time,"  said  Humphrey  serenely.  "  She 
doesn't  want  an  action  for  breach  of  promise." 

"  You'd  have  no  case,"  cried  Dan  at  once.  "  She 
became  engaged  to  a  creature  who  was,  judging  by  ap- 
pearances, a  man.  She  finds  that  he  is  without  spiritual 
perceptions,  the  thing  which  differentiates  man  from 
the  brute.  She  breaks  it  off.  Quite  right  too." 

"  You  don't  seem  to  understand  that  I  have  a  mission 
to  reclaim  Humphrey,"  remonstrated  Tessa.  "  I  do 
not  flinch.  I  mean  to  open  his  eyes  to  all  kinds  of 
things  by  degrees." 

"  Brendon,  I  appeal  to  you,"  cried  Dan.  "  Is  such 
a  marriage  likely  to  prove  happy  ?  Husband  and  wife 
in  fundamental  disagreement,  the  only  hope  being  the 
lady's  determination  to  re-make  the  man  according  to 
her  own  ideas  ?  " 

"I  back  Miss  Selby,"  said  Oliver  lightly.  :<Yes. 
If  she  takes  enough  interest  in  the  man  she  will  reform 
him." 

Humphrey  sat  up.  "Do  you  take  an  interest  in 
me,  Tessa?"  he  asked,  in  the  voice  which  he  knew 
would  inspire  reprisals.  "Poor  Tessa!  A  friendless 


184      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

orphan,  brought  up  by  a  mountebank  and  a  scribbler! 
Never  mind,  love,  I  will  atone  to  you  for  all  the  errors 
of  your  youth !  " 

"  Ha !  Is  scribbler  your  word,  sirrah  ? "  burst  in 
Oliver.  "  Then  Dan  and  I  are  in  league  at  once  against 
you!  The  pen  is  mightier  than  the  sword,  and  with 
it  we  defend  our  respective  friendless  orphans !  I  am 
already  provided  with  mine,"  he  added,  waving  a  pro- 
prietary hand  towards  Astrid  in  the  hammock.  "  And 
Dan  will  get  suited  as  soon  as  he  possibly  can," 

"  Arrah  thin,  it's  not  much  that  your  orphan  colleen 
will  need  you  to  be  defmding  her  " —  Dan  dropped  into 
an  overwhelming  brogue  — "  if  the  pen  is  mightier  than 
the  sword,  it's  hersilf  can  wield  it  with  the  best  of 
us." 

"  I  know,"  returned  Oliver  soberly.  "  That's  the 
worst  of  it.  When  our  friendless  orphans  are  so  com- 
pletely able  to  take  care  of  themselves,  we  begin  to 
wonder  what  there  is  left  for  us  to  do !  " 

"And  you  find,  as  you  ought  to,"  burst  in  Dan, 
"  that  it  is  themselves  that  do  all  —  you  simply  have 
to  accept  the  gifts  they  shower  on  ye,  and  own  your- 
self an  inferior  being." 

"  Here,  shut  up,  Dan,  before  you  make  a  complete 
fool  of  yourself,"  said  Martin,  really  nettled.  "  What 
is  the  use  of  pretending  you  think  yourself  a  woman's 
inferior  when  you  know  you  don't  ? " 

"  It  all  depends  on  the  woman,  doesn't  it,  Dan  ? " 
asked  Oliver,  with  intentional  mischief. 

"  It  does,"  cut  in  Humphrey,  before  Dan  could  speak. 
"We  love  the  modest,  retiring  creature,  whose  graces 
and  virtues  cry  aloud  to  us  —  it  is  to  her  we  render 
homage,  not  to  the  violent  person  elbowing  her  way  to 
the  front " 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      185 

"  Ah,  but  as  your  homage  is  all  internal,  we  are  none 
the  better  for  it,"  cried  Tessa  instantly.  "  We  modest, 
retiring  creatures  go  without  everything,  even  the  knowl- 
edge of  your  good  opinion  of  us!  Unless  we  stand 
up  and  shout,  we  are  merely  shoved  out  of  the  way. 
You  sit  at  the  tablecloth  we  have  washed,  beside  the 
meal  we  have  cooked,  upon  the  chair  we  have  polished, 
in  the  house  we  keep,  wearing  the  clothes  we  have 
woven,  the  stockings  we  have  darned.  You  watch  us 
enter  from  the  kitchen,  red  and  heated,  carrying  the 
heavy  dishes,  which  we  humbly  present  to  you:  and 
your  eyes  fill  with  tears  of  sentiment  as  you  murmur, 
'  How  charming  a  thing  is  woman ! '  But  if  we  come 
to  you  and  say,  '  Dear  one,  I  have  worn  out  my  clothes 
in  your  service,  I  have  scrubbed  and  cleaned  and 
washed  and  mended  and  ironed,  and  I  want  a  little 
money  for  a  new  frock,'  you  say,  '  O  fie !  Go  back  to 
your  kitchen,  my  beloved,  and  be  content  to  be  the  ob- 
ject of  a  good  man's  affection ! '  Isn't  that  the  way  of 
it,  Astrid  ? " 

"  I  fully  expect  it  will  be  Mr.  Spence's  way,"  said 
Astrid  slyly.  "  I  am  thankful  to  inform  you  it  is  by 
no  means  Oliver's." 

"  O,  of  course,  you  daren't  say  otherwise  while  your 
tyrant  is  within  earshot,"  cut  in  Martin. 

"  Then  perhaps  this  conversation  had  better  be  con- 
tinued to-morrow  when  he  is  out  of  the  way,"  sug- 
gested Astrid.  A  few  hours  back  she  could  not  have  so 
spoken.  Something  new,  something  approachable  in 
Brendon,  had  given  her  the  cue.  He  had  expressed  a 
desire  to  keep  up  appearances.  The  consciousness  that 
she  was  "  playing  up  "  to  him  gave  her  boldness.  She 
glanced  at  him  to  see  if  she  was  doing  right,  and  caught 
his  eyes  full  upon  her,  alight  with  approval. 


186      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"  I  advise  you  to  keep  the  firm's  secrets,  madam,"  lie 
threatened. 

"  O,"  said  Tessa,  collecting  the  plates  in  piles,  pre- 
paratory to  the  washing-up,  "  you  can  do  some  of  that 
wireless  telegraphy  which  Astrid  was  talking  about.  I 
expect  she  spoke  from  experience.  You  will  shoot  her 
a  message  — -'  Beware !  I  am  with  you  in  spirit ! '  and 
she  will  not  dare  to  say  anything  she  would  not  like  you 
to  hear." 

"  Twaddle !  "  said  Astrid.  "  I  shall  just  hang  up 
the  receiver  so  that  no  messages  can  come  through." 

"  O  no,  don't  do  that !  I  might  want  to  send  an 
urgent  one,"  replied  Oliver  softly. 

She  knew  he  spoke  to  her  only. 

"  Mixed  metaphor !  "  observed  Dan  peevishly,  get- 
ting up  abruptly.  "  You  are  confusing  the  telephone 
with  wireless  telegraphy  —  I  didn't  expect  such  loose 
thought  from  you,  Mrs.  Brendon." 

"  You  can't  expect  my  brain  to  be  working  quite 
well  after  this  admixture  of  motors,  dog-fights,  and 
doctors,"  said  Astrid,  lifting  a  coaxing  smile  to  him, 
and  wondering  why  his  sunny  temper  seemed  suddenly 
overclouded. 

"  Certainly  not,"  came  from  Oliver  promptly. 
"  This  conversation  has  been  unduly  exciting,  and  the 
medical  fiat  is  that  the  patient  is  to  be  kept  quiet.  Go 
away,  all  of  you!  Dan  and  Martin  can  wash  up  — 
Spence  and  Miss  Selby  can  wander  away  in  the  golden 
gorse,  and  spoon  as  lovers  use.  I  shall  sit  by  the  ham\ 
mock  and  read  my  wife  to  sleep." 

"  Spoon,  indeed !  "  observed  Humphrey  cuttingly. 
"After  the  way  in  which  my  betrothed  has  just  been 
spreading  herself  out,  I  shall  have  to  begin  by  adminis- 
tering rebuke  from  the  heights  of  my  male  lordship." 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     187 

"  All  right,"  returned  his  betrothed,  "  that  will  give 
me  nice  time  for  a  nap  too.  I  want  one  worse  than 
Astrid,  since  I  was  up  early,  breakfast-getting." 

Dan  said  nothing.  He  stood,  his  hands  locked  be- 
hind him,  looking  wistfully  down  at  Astrid  in  the  ham- 
mock. He  had  had  her  a  week  to  himself.  He  was 
surprised  at  the  vexation  it  was  to  see  her  appropriated. 
His  head  was  full  of  a  new  development  in  his  novel, 
which  he  was  longing  to  pour  out  to  her.  They  were, 
in  a  fashion,  pursuing  the  thread  of  the  plot,  hand  in 
hand.  It  hurt  him  that  she  was  not  available,  though 
he  knew  that  Oliver  would  be  gone  upon  the  morrow. 

"  That's  the  worst  of  having  a  married  woman  for 
your  secretary !  You  only  have  the  remnant  of  sympa- 
thy she  can  spare  from  her  husband,"  he  reflected. 
"  Why  do  nice  women  go  and  marry  ?  First  Tessa, 
who  was  quite  well  off  and  comfortable  until  Humphrey 
came  worrying  —  and  then  Mrs.  Brendon.  O,  if  I  had 
but  known  her  when  she  was  Miss  Carey!  Why 
couldn't  Brendon  have  brought  her  down  to  stay  with 
his  mother  before  marriage  ?  " 

The  gaze  he  bent  upon  her  was  so  fixed  and  troubled 
that  she  asked  him  whether  anything  was  the  matter. 
He  hastily  denied  it,  and  half  turned  away,  coming 
back  to  add,  "  Only  it  is  so  rotten  your  having  got  hurt." 

"  But  she  is  to  be  practically  well  again  by  Satur- 
day," cut  in  Oliver,  "  by  the  time  I  come  down  again. 
If  they  take  care  of  you,  do  you  think  you  could  man- 
age to  get  mended  by  Friday  ?  "  he  went  on,  addressing 
her  directly.  "  I  might  be  able  to  get  off  then." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

The  devil  laughed  at  you  in  his  sleeve  ! 
You  knew  not?  That  I  well  believe; 
Or  you  had  saved  two  souls:  nay,  four." 

ROBEBT  BBOWNINQ. 


seemed  dreary  to  Oliver  Brendon  upon  his 
return  from  the  moorland  camp  in  the  west.  He  was 
sleeping  at  his  club,  in  order  to  keep  up,  as  far  as 
Thackridge  was  concerned,  the  fiction  that  he  was  with 
his  wife.  For  the  same  reason,  he  could  not  allow  him- 
self the  indulgence  of  going  to  dine  with  his  mother. 

His  change  of  feeling,  between  his  leaving  London 
for  the  week-end  and  his  return  thither,  was  marked. 
Two  things,  both  of  some  import,  had  occurred  during 
those  short  days.  He  had  seen  his  wife  again,  after 
the  interview  which  had  made  any  future  intercourse 
seem  impossible:  and  he  had  met  Vivien,  face  to  face, 
the  wife  of  another  man. 

Had  he  been  capable  of  analysing  his  emotions  justly, 
he  would  have  known  that  of  the  two  events,  the  first 
had  impressed  him  the  more.  The  fact  of  his  wife's 
accident  had  produced  in  him  a  revulsion  of  feeling. 
It  seemed  very  pitiful  that  she,  who  had  been  so  in- 
jured, so  insulted  by  him,  should  be  called  upon  to 
suffer  bodily  pain  also.  The  fact  that  it  was  his  pas- 
sion for  Vivien  which  had  caused  him  to  use  Astrid 
with  such  cruelty,  made  him  ashamed. 

Poor  little  Vivien!  The  picture  of  her  small  deli- 
cate face  haunted  him  during  his  journey  up  in  the 

188 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     189 

train.  She  had  looked  at  him  curiously,  he  thought  — 
not  as  though  she  were  surprised  at  his  being  there: 
though,  if  you  came  to  think  of  it,  their  meeting  had 
been  a  remarkable  coincidence.  She  had  flashed  at 
him  a  glance  of  something  half  reproachful,  half  eager, 
which  at  the  moment  he  had  disregarded,  but  which 
rose  to  his  mind  afterwards. 

He  could  not  think  that  she  looked  happy;  yet  he 
caught  himself  echoing  Dr.  Gordon's  words.  She 
would  soon  forget!  Railton  was  attached  to  her,  and 
could  give  her  everything  she  wanted.  By  the  time 
she  had  reached  New  York,  her  former  lover  would 
have  become  a  memory. 

Poor  little  soul !  He  thought  of  her  with  a  stirring 
of  the  old  rush  of  tenderness.  Little  Vivi,  who  had 
opened  up  to  him  a  new  side  of  life  —  who  had  caused 
him  to  let  himself  go ! 

There  is  no  doubt  at  all  that,  having  once  let  one- 
self go,  the  re-coiling  of  the  released  spring,  and  its  re- 
fitting into  its  former  socket,  is  a  painful  business. 

As  he  entered  his  office  on  Wednesday  morning  it  was 
not,  however,  of  Vivien  that  he  thought. 

Tessa,  taken  into  his  confidence  respecting  the  neces- 
sity of  tranquil  happiness  for  Astrid,  had  eagerly 
promised  to  secure  it  as  far  as  Dan  and  she  were  able. 
Moreover,  she  had  volunteered  to  write  him  a  full  and 
true  account  of  the  doctor's  report,  after  his  next  visit ; 
and  the  said  report  was  due  this  morning. 

A  pile  of  letters  awaited  him  as  usual.  On  the  top 
were  three,  all  from  ladies,  and  all  bearing  the  Dor- 
mouth  postmark.  The  uppermost  was  addressed  in 
the  straggling,  childish  hand  he  had  learned  to  know  so 
well  and  to  await  so  impatiently  all  last  winter. 

He  turned  scarlet,  and  raised  his  eyes  to  make  sure 


190      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

of  being  alone.  Why  should  Vivien  write  to  him? 
What  was  there  to  be  said  ?  There  could  be  no  doubt 
that  her  marriage  should  have  put  an  end  to  all  cor- 
respondence between  them.  He  held  it  with  mingled 
fondness  and  distaste.  As  he  held  it,  his  eye  fell  upon 
the  next  letter  —  in  the  firm,  cultivated  hand  which  he 
had  so  prized  when  it  belonged  to  his  irreproachable 
secretary.  He  opened  that  first. 

It  was  very  brief,  but  assured  him  that  she  no  longer 
felt  pain,  and  was  getting  well  fast.  "  I  shall  be 
mended  by  Friday,"  was  a  phrase  which  gave  him 
pleasure. 

Turning  to  Tessa,  he  found  that  she  confirmed  the 
cheering  account.  The  doctor  had  found  his  patient 
much  better  than  he  had  expected.  There  was  per- 
ceptibly less  tension  of  the  nerves,  more  ease,  both  of 
mind  and  body.  He  was  to  see  her  again  on  Friday 
morning.  The  weather  continued  ideal,  and  Astrid 
was  eating  and  sleeping  better  than  before  her  ac- 
cident. 

He  leaned  back  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  Somewhat  in 
the  same  manner  might  one  who  had  well-nigh  killed 
a  man  in  a  fit  of  mad  rage,  hear  the  news  that  his  vic- 
tim was  out  of  danger,  and  that  he  would  not  have 
the  sin  of  murder  on  his  soul.  The  sun,  pouring  in 
through  the  high,  smeared  window  of  his  room,  instead 
of  being  an  annoyance,  now  seemed  sympathetic.  If 
it  was  too  hot  to  be  pleasant  here  in  London,  at 
least  it  was  making  summer  for  the  poor  girl  down 
there. 

He  continued  to  turn  over  his  letters.  One  from  his 
"  boss "  he  opened  with  misgiving.  It  merely  asked 
him  to  keep  free  from  appointments  between  eleven 
and  twelve,  as  Mr.  Marsh  proposed  coming  to  see  him. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      191 

His  brow  puckered.  Marsh  was  up  to  something. 
Was  it  something  to  which  he  would  be  unable  to  con- 
sent ?  With  a  shrug  he  touched  his  bell,  and  gave  or- 
ders that  nobody  but  Mr.  Marsh  was  to  be  admitted  till 
after  twelve. 

When  the  new  secretary  —  whom  he  disliked  —  had 
disappeared  and  definitely  closed  the  door,  he  picked  up 
Vivien's  envelope  and  opened  it  with  a  feeling  half 
eagerness,  half  shame. 

"  Oh  Oliver,  you  are  punishing  me !  It  was  bad 
enough  to  come  down  the  hotel  stairs,  and  find  you 
sitting  there  below  me  in  the  hall,  when  you  had  never 
given  me  the  least  little  hint  that  you  meant  to  come ! 
But  it  was  cruel  of  you  to  disappear  again  without 
speaking  one  word,  or  sending  one  line. 

"  I  am  tormenting  myself,  wondering  what  hap- 
pened. Of  course,  Calvert  thinks  I  knew  you  were 
coming.  I  am  certain  he  does,  though  he  has  not 
said  one  word.  I  cannot  help  believing  that  he 
found  some  chance  to  speak  to  you,  and  tell  you  to 
go  away. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  it  was  best  for  you  to  go.  But 
why  did  you  come?  If  you  knew  how  desolate  I 
feel,  how  home-sick!  Do,  dear  Oliver,  send  me  one 
word,  only  to  say  you  have  forgiven  me,  and  wish 
me  well.  Send  it  to  the  Post  Ofiice,  Therese  will 
fetch  it. 

«  N.  B. —  Calvert  is  going  to  town  on  Wednesday, 
for  the  day.  If  you  get  this  in  time  —  (I  have  only 
just  found  out  he  is  going)— you  might  perhaps 
run  down  here,  if  only  for  half  an  hour,  to  forgive 
me,  and  say  good-bye. 

"  But  I  expect  you  had  better  not.     He  is  sure  to 


192      A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

get  to  hear  of  it.     I  believe  lie  tips  the  hotel  servants 
to  spy.     If  you  should  be  coming,  telegraph  to  the 
Post  Office,  and  I  will  meet  you  on  the  Parade,  so 
that  you  need  not  be  seen  at  the  hotel  at  all. 
"  I  doubt  if  I  shall  ever  be  happy  again. 

"  Your  foolish 

"  VIVIEN." 

A  kind  of  despair  came  to  Oliver  as  he  read  this 
effusion.  Flinging  it  on  the  table,  he  thrust  down  his 
hands  deep  in  his  pockets,  rose,  and  stared  at  the  win- 
dows of  the  opposite  house.  What  madness !  And  yet 
he  could  see  how  it  seemed  to  her !  She  must  have  seen 
him  sitting  at  the  table  in  the  lounge  at  the  Palace 
Hotel  while  he  was  waiting  to  learn  the  doctor's  ad- 
dress. She  had  seen  him,  and  had  jumped  to  the  same 
conclusion  as  Railton  —  that  he  must  be  in  Dormouth 
in  pursuit  of  her!  She  had  not  seen  the  motor,  nor 
Astrid.  Neither  had  Railton:  and  Oliver  remembered 
that  he  had  said  nothing  that  could  enlighten  him. 

The  grim  jests  of  coincidence!  It  was  really  laugh- 
able, if  you  came  to  think  of  it. 

The  point  for  him  was,  how  to  deal  with  the  child- 
ish letter  ?  He  was  full  of  pity,  but  in  this  mood  Mrs. 
Railton  must  not  be  pitied,  nor  petted.  His  first  im- 
pulse was  to  leave  her  appeal  unanswered.  But  he 
reflected  that  he  could  not  well  do  this;  for  if  no  an- 
swer came,  she  might  conclude  that  he  had  not  received 
the  letter :  and  further  trouble  would  most  likely  ensue. 
It  was  better  to  write,  and  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
preclude  all  chance  of  her  desiring  to  continue  the  cor- 
respondence. It  was  brutal,  but  it  would  probably  ef- 
fect a  cure. 

He  sat  down,  seized  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  wrote  — 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      193 

"  DEAR  MRS.  RAILTON, 

"  Your  letter  has  surprised  me.  In  justice  to 
myself,  I  send  a  line  in  reply  to  explain  my  pres- 
ence in  Dormouth  last  Sunday.  Let  me  assure  you 
that  my  intrusion  upon  your  honeymoon  was  quite 
unwitting.  I  had  no  idea  you  were  staying  in  Dor- 
mouth. 

"  I  came  to  bring  my  wife  to  see  a  doctor.  We 
were  staying  about  fifteen  miles  off,  for  the  week- 
end, and  on  Saturday  afternoon  Mrs.  Brendon  had  a 
slight  accident.  I  went  into  the  Palace  Hotel  for 
about  five  minutes,  to  ascertain  the  doctor's  address. 
When  Mr.  Railton  spoke  to  me,  I  was  standing  out- 
side the  doctor's  house,  waiting  for  my  wife  to  rejoin 
me. 

"  With  my  good  wishes  for  your  happiness, 
"  I  remain,  truly  yours, 

"  OLIVER  BRENDON." 

He  addressed  the  letter  to  the  Palace  Hotel:  and, 
after  some  moments'  thought,  put  Vivien's  letter  to 
himself  in  his  own  private  portion  of  the  safe,  and 
turned  the  key  upon  it. 

After  this,  he  settled  down  to  the  business  of  the 
morning,  with  a  determination  that  all  should  be  done 
in  good  time,  so  as  to  leave  no  doubt  of  his  being  able  to 
get  off  by  Friday. 

He  had  not  much  leisure  for  work,  however.  At 
eleven  o'clock  exactly,  Mr.  Marsh  walked  into  his  room, 
took  off  his  hat,  and  drew  up  his  chair  as  if  for  a  long 
talk. 

Somehow,  before  he  began,  the  young  editor  was 
aware  that  what  he  had  to  say  was  something  final.  He 
was  palpably  nervous.  He  faltered,  chose  his  words 


194      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

carefully,  alluded  to  his  own  age,  to  the  uncertainties  of 
newspaper  ownership,  and  the  continual  competition 
and  cutting  of  prices.  At  first  Oliver  thought  it  might 
be  merely  a  large  reduction  of  his  own  salary,  and  be- 
gan to  calculate  how  much  he  could  stand  without  re- 
signing. But  before  long  he  was  undeceived.  The 
murder  was  out.  Marsh  had  sold  the  Penman. 

"  I  must  make  myself  perfectly  clear,  Mr.  Brendon. 
I  believe,  I  may  say  I  am  sure,  that  the  transfer  of 
ownership  will  make  no  difference  to  you.  No  differ- 
ence at  all,  I  may  assure  you.  The  purchaser  author- 
ises me  to  say  that  he  trusts  you  will  remain  editor,  and 
conduct  the  paper  on  its  present  admirable  lines " 

"  Without  change  of  policy ?  " 

" —  I  should  say,  its  present  lines  as  far  as  relates  to 
the  various  departments  —  advertising,  art,  literature, 
the  Drama  —  I  think  I  may  say  no  paper  can  beat  us 
in  our  reviewing.  As  regards  the  tone  of  the  leading 
articles,  the  purchaser  has  acquired  the  paper  only  on 
condition  that  he  possesses  complete  control."  He 
looked  down  at  the  table,  and  his  own  two  pudgy  hands 
folded  upon  the  blotter,  as  though  lamenting  that  they 
had  let  go  what  they  held.  "  Complete  control ! 
There  may  be  some  alterations  in  policy,"  he  concluded, 
with  a  sigh.  "  On  the  reciprocity  question,  and  so  on. 
But  nothing  that  need  entail  any  sacrifice  of  principle 
on  your  part,  Brendon.  Nothing." 

Oliver  settled  himself  well  back  in  the  editorial  chair. 

"  I  conclude  that  the  name  of  the  purchaser  is  not  a 
secret  ? " 

"  Oh  no,  dear  me,  no.  Not  at  all.  Why  should  it 
be  a  secret  ?  It  is  a  name  I  am  proud  to  mention.  As 
you  have  known,  my  sympathies  have  always  been  with 
that  great  and  progressive  country,  the  United  States. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      195 

The  purchaser  is  the  great  newspaper  proprietor,  Cal- 
vert  Railton." 

Oliver  sat  quite  still.  Up  to  this  moment  he  had 
had  hopes.  He  might  be  able  to  influence  a  new  owner 
as  he  had  undoubtedly  influenced  Marsh.  •  It  might 
have  been  possible  for  him  to  hold  his  post,  in  spite  of 
the  change. 

But  Calvert  Eailton!  His  mouth  curved  in  a  bit- 
ter smile:  Railton  was  master,  and  had  commissioned 
Marsh  to  tell  him  he  hoped  that  he  would  remain 
editor,  the  new  owner  reserving  complete  control! 

"  So  you  have  sold  an  English  newspaper  of  high  po- 
sition to  a  foreigner  ?  "  he  asked  quietly. 

"Foreigner!  O,  come,  come,  Brandon!  That's  no 
way  to  talk  if  you  want  to  stay  where  you  are !  The 
Americans  are  not  foreigners." 

Oliver  cleared  his  throat,  for  his  mouth  had  grown 
suddenly  dry. 

"  There  are  reasons,  other  than  political,  why  I  can- 
not possibly  edit  any  paper  owned  by  Railton,"  he  said. 
"  When  does  the  Penman  change  hands  ?  " 

Marsh  looked  a  little  crestfallen.  "  You  don't  mean 
that  you  will  resign  ?  "  he  stammered. 

Brendon  smiled.  "  You  don't  mean  that  you  didn't 
expect  it  ?  " 

"  I  didn't !  I  give  you  my  word !  Reconsider  it ! 
You're  young  and  hot-headed !  Reconsider  it !  I  dare 
say  he  would  raise  your  screw  if  you  demanded  it.  He 
won't  find  you  easy  to  replace." 

This  time  Brendon  laughed  out.  "  He  has  no  doubt 
a  Yankee  up  his  sleeve  —  a  smart  young  man  —  wait- 
ing impatiently  to  come  over  here,  to  '  speed  up '  and 
'  brighten  '  the  paper.  In  a  few  months  he  will  be  giv- 
jng  us  columns  with  big  headings  — '  Three  great  ac- 


196      A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

tresses  give  their  views  on  Divorce,'  and  so  on.  Well, 
Mr.  Marsh,  you  will,  of  course,  see  in  my  regret  only 
the  natural  mortification  of  the  man  chucked  out  of  his 
berth ;  but  I  must  express  it  nevertheless.  I  am  sorry ; 
and  I  am  disappointed.  The  Penman  was  doing  a  good 
work,  and  on  the  way  to  do  a  better.  However,  it  was 
yours  and  you  had  the  right  to  throw  it  away." 

Marsh  did  not  speak  for  a  minute  or  two.  "  I'm 
sorry  you  take  it  like  this,"  he  said  at  last.  His  tone 
was  resentful. 

"  I  will  say  no  more,  sir,  and  I  apologise  if  I  have 
said  anything  unfitting.  You  won't  expect  me  to  give 
up  the  work  to  which  I  have  devoted  myself  so  com- 
pletely, without  a  regret,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Brendon,  this  thing  can  be  arranged.  Railton  isn't 
going  to  play  the  goat.  If  he  had  wanted  an  out-and- 
out  Yankee  organ,  do  you  suppose  he  would  have 
bought  the  Penman  ?  Why,  his  public  would  disappear 
in  three  months !  He's  too  good  a  man  of  business  to 
be  monkeying  with  a  paper  that  way!  Stay  for  six 
months  and  try  how  you  get  on !  " 

Oliver  shook  his  head.  Suddenly  he  leaned  his  arms 
upon  the  table  and  said  hurriedly: 

"  This  thing  is  actually  completed,  is  it  ?  Or  is 
there  still  a  loophole  ?  If  you  are  set  upon  selling  the 
paper,  it  is  quite  possible  that  my  mother  and  I  be- 
tween us  might  acquire  it,  to  save  it  from  the  degrada- 
tion   " 

Marsh  broke  in  with  a  wave  of  the  pudgy  hand. 
"  Useless,  my  dear  Brendon :  quite  useless.  The 
thing  is  done.  Mr.  Railton  had  no  time  to  waste.  He 
is  leaving  for  New  York  almost  immediately,  and  it 
had  to  be  arranged.  If  you  resign  at  once,  I  fear  it 
will  leave  him  awkwardly  placed." 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      197 

"  That  is  his  look  out,"  said  Oliver  grimly. 

'  You  know,  Brendon,  you  are  quite  a  young  man  — 
You  must  let  me  speak !  As  far  as  your  opinion 
of  Railton  goes,  you  are  under  a  misapprehension.  He 
has  a  high  standing.  His  firm  bears  as  good  a  name  as 
any  in  the  States.  You  would  like  him,  and  he  would 
like  you " 

Oliver  turned  a  set  jaw  and  blazing  eyes  upon  the 
late  proprietor. 

"  If  you  want  to  know  what  Railton  is  I  can  tell  yot* ' 
in  one  word.     He  is  a  skunk.     If  he  had  had  the  feel- 
ings of  a  man  of  honour,  as  we  in  England  understand 
the  word,  he  would  have  done  anything,  foregone  any- 
thing, sooner  than  injure  me  again." 

"Again!" 

"  Yes.  He  has  done  it  once.  He  and  I  are  enemies. 
He  has  bought  this  paper  with  the  deliberate  intention 
of  ruining  me." 

Marsh,  who  had  grown  red,  and  started,  as  he  heard 
the  first  part  of  the  accusation,  now  protested.  "  You 
are  altogether  wrong,  Brendon.  Mr.  Railton  has  been 
trying  to  buy  the  Penman  for  nearly  two  years  past. 
He  made  me  an  offer  last  summer,  which  I  declined. 
He  made  me  another  some  weeks  ago,  and  then  with- 
drew it,  I  don't  quite  know  why.  He  telegraphed  his 
final  offer  only  two  days  back." 

"  Offering  you  more  than  the  paper  is  worth  —  more 
than  you  are  likely  to  get  from  anybody  but  a  man 
rich  enough  to  pay  for  the  satisfaction  of  a  private 
grudge !  .  .  .  Ah,  well,  it  is  done."  Leaning  back,  the 
young  editor  flung  his  pen  down  upon  the  table  as  if 
thereby  renouncing  all  claim  to  authority  over  the  Pen- 
man. "  No  words  of  mine  can  undo  it !  And  now  my 
explosion  is  over,  and  we  will  come  to  business.  I 


198      A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

forget  what  are  the  exact  terms  of  the  contract  between 
yourself  and  me.  I  have  an  idea  that  it  becomes  void 
upon  your  parting  with  the  paper.  I  fancy  you  bound 
yourself  not  to  sell  under  three  years;  and  we  have 
been  together  more  than  five  years,  sir!  Therefore,  I 
suppose  that  I  am  free  to  walk  out  of  this  office  to-day, 
and  not  return.  But  if  it  be  otherwise  —  if  I  am  in 
any  sort  bound  to  give  due  term  of  notice  to  any  new 
owner,  then  I  break  my  contract  deliberately,  and 
leave  Mr.  Railton  to  seek  his  remedy  in  the  Law 
Courts." 

Mr.  Marsh  stared.  "  You  mean  that  you  won't  even 
stay  to  bring  out  this  number  ? " 

"  This  week's  number  is  complete,  all  but  the  lead- 
ers. I  can  write  those  from  home,  and  will  send  them 
in  by  Thursday  night,  as  usual.  I  will  not  enter  any 
office  that  is  owned  by  Calvert  Railton." 

Apparently  Mr.  Marsh  was  moved  —  disconcerted. 
"  I  wish  I  had  know  of  this,"  he  stammered.  "  I  had 
no  idea  there  was  anything  personal  between  you " 

"  Had  you  taken  me  into  your  confidence,  I  could 
have  enlightened  you,"  responded  Brendon  drily. 
"  But  I  do  not  think  you  would  have  hesitated  to  sell 
at  a  fancy  price,  merely  because  I  do  not  like  the  man 
who  buys.  I  have  no  right  to  resent  your  having  done 
this  behind  my  back,  though  I  may  be  allowed  to  own 
that  it  has  hurt  me.  I  suppose  we  are  all  apt  to  set  too 
high  a  value  upon  our  own  services.  But  I  believe  I 
may  say,  without  vanity,  that  you  owe  the  fact  that  the 
paper  to-day  is  a  property  well  worth  buying,  in  some 
degree  to  myself." 

"  I  grant  it  —  I  grant  that,"  said  Marsh  eagerly. 
"  I  give  you  my  word,  Brendon,  no  thought  of  turning 
you  out  ever  entered  my  head.  And  I  still  contend  that 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      199 

you  are  mistaken.  Railton  spoke  to  me  in  the  most 
explicit  way  about  hoping  that  you  would  stay  by  the 
paper " 

"  He  could  afford  to  do  that.  He  knew  I  could  not 
stay  and  keep  an  ounce  of  self-respect.  Well !  I  must 
lose  no  time  in  looking  out  for  a  job.  It  is  awkward 
to  have  to  do  so  without  notice;  but  it  must  be  done. 
I  suppose  I  may  rely  upon  you  to  say  something  kind 
about  me,  if  I  should  be  lucky  enough  to  find  anything 
suitable  ? " 

"  Tut,  tut !  "  said  Marsh,  in  a  bewildered  way,  look- 
ing appealingly  at  his  late  editor. 

The  office  boy  knocked  at  the  door.  "  Mr.  Railton 
wishes  to  know  if  he  may  come  in,  sir  ? " 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  Then  Oliver  said 
quietly : 

"  By  all  means,  show  Mr.  Railton  in." 

Calvert  entered,  with  an  air  of  quiet  benevolence. 
"  Well,  Mr.  Brendon,  I  hope  I  see  you  well  —  all  the 
better  for  your  week-end  at  Dormouth,  no  doubt?  So 
it  seems  you  and  I  are  to  be  more  closely  associated  in 
the  future  —  eh?" 

Oliver  turned  from  his  extended  hand  as  though  he 
did  not  see  it,  and  took  down  his  straw  hat  from  its 

Peg- 

"  Mr.  Marsh  has  informed  me  that  you  have  acquired 

the  paper,"  he  said  temperately.  "  If  you  are  leaving 
London  this  evening,  you  will  have  much  to  arrange. 
I  will  leave  you  together." 

"Leave  us  together?"  He  fancied  that  for  a  mo- 
ment Railton  was  genuinely  taken  aback.  "  It  seems 
to  me  that  we  shall  find  it  difficult  to  arrange  anything 
without  you,  Mr.  Brendon." 

"  0,  I  think  you  underrate  your  business  capacity, 


200      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

Mr.  Railton.     But  in  any  case,  I  fear  you  must  do  with- 
out me.     My  connection  with  the  paper  has  ceased." 

"  Since  when,  if  I  may  ask  ?  " 

"  Since  you  acquired  it,  naturally." 

Railton  sat  down  and  passed  his  stumpy,  carefully 
manicured  hand  under  his  moustache.  "  You  say 
naturally"  he  remarked  thoughtfully.  "  Well,  there 
is  something  to  be  said  for  your  view.  But  I  think 
there  must  be  some  agreement  which  will  interfere  with 
your  plan  for  leaving  us  completely  in  the  lurch  ? " 

"  I  am  not  sure  about  that.  If  there  is,  you  have 
your  remedy.  You  can  sue  me  for  breach  of  con- 
tract." 

Railton  looked  steadily  at  him,  with  a  movement  of 
dislike  and  enmity  which  surprised  himself.  Oliver 
looked  so  handsome,  with  his  jaw  set  and  his  eyes  glow- 
ing—  so  handsome  and  so  dangerous,  that  his  heart 
was  filled  with  black  envy.  He  removed  his  gaze  from 
the  tall,  alert  figure,  and  dropped  his  eyes  to  the  table. 
They  fell  upon  an  envelope  addressed  to  Ms  wife. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Oliver,  approaching  the  table, 
and  pushing  the  envelope  towards  Vivien's  husband, 
with  two  fingers.  "  I  heard  from  your  wife  this  morn- 
ing, and  that  is  my  answer.  Perhaps  I  may  ask  you  to 
take  it  to  her,  if  you  are  going  down  to  Dormouth  to- 
night?" 

For  a  moment  Railton  lost  command.  "  Damn  you, 
sir,  you  heard  from  my  wife  this  morning  ? " 

Marsh  rose  hastily,  for  the  two  men  stood  confront- 
ing one  another  like  two  dogs  about  to  spring. 

Oliver  smiled  slowly  at  the  other  man's  agitation. 
"  I'll  give  you  one  word  of  advice  before  we  part  — 
send  away  your  wife's  maid,"  he  said  blandly.  "  Well, 
good  day  to  you." 


A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE     201 

He  walked  to  the  door.  Eailton,  darkly  flushed, 
made  a  movement  to  follow.  Marsh,  trembling  with 
fear  lest  there  should  be  a  row  that  might  get  into  the 
papers,  laid  a  desperate  hand  upon  his  arm,  clutching 
it  firmly.  He  could  see  in  fancy  the  headlines  before 
him. 

EDITOR  AND  MILLIONAIRE 
AFFRAY  IN  A  NEWSPAPER  OFFICE 

As  the  door  closed  on  Oliver  he  panted  with  relief. 

"  Good  heavens,  Mr.  Railton,  I  never  knew  there  was 
anything  personal  in  your  desire  to  buy  the  paper,"  he 
gasped  out.  "  I  don't  think  I  should  have  done  it  I  A 
fine  young  fellow !  Just  married  too !  Cast  out  with- 
out a  penny !  " 

"  It  serves  him  right,"  said  Railton,  suddenly  pale, 
as  he  put  the  letter  to  Vivien  into  his  pocket. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

But  certain  points,  left  wholly  to  himself, 
When  once  a  man  has  arbitrated  on, 
We  say  he  must  succeed  there,  or  go  hang. 
Thus,  he  should  wed  the  woman  he  loves  most 
Or  needs  most,  whatsoe'er  the  love  or  need  — 
For  he  can't  wed  twice. —  ROBERT  BROWNING. 

ONCE  out  in  the  street,  the  fumes  of  anger,  passing 
by,  left  Oliver  a  prey  to  deep  despondency. 

Not  for  a  moment  did  he  regret  the  stand  he  had 
taken.  Were  all  to  do  over  again,  he  would  still  have 
shaken  the  dust  of  his  beloved  Penman  from  off  his  feet, 
and  fared  forth  into  the  world  to  begin  life  anew. 

But  one  does  not  sever  a  limb,  however  inevitable 
the  operation,  without  pain  nor  without  regret. 

It  had  been  his  happy  lot  not  only  to  enjoy  the  most 
congenial  of  home  lives,  but  also  —  a  rare  thing  in  this 
world  —  to  be  able  to  earn  his  living  by  working  at  the 
thing  he  liked  best. 

The  power  of  discrimination,  of  selection  —  the  art 
of  putting  things  —  the  delightful  knowledge  that  he 
was  one  of  those  who  count  in  the  formation  of  public 
opinion  —  that  he  had  a  rostrum  and  an  attentive  and 
growing  audience:  all  this  had  combined  to  please  and 
satisfy  him.  And  now  the  gods,  not  content  with  spoil- 
ing his  home  life,  must  take  from  him  income  and  posi- 
tion at  one  dire  blow. 

He  was  just  a  journalist  now,  like  any  other  of  his 
kind.  The  men  who  had  been  so  polite,  so  cordial  — 
who  had  deferred  so  eagerly  to  his  opinion  at  the  Club 

202 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     203 

—  had  come  hat  in  hand  to  visit  him  in  his  editorial 
sanctum  —  these  were  his  mates,  his  equals  to-day. 
He  was  down  again  in  the  crowd,  to  be  hustled  and 
pushed  and  most  likely  rejected. 

As  he  went  out  of  the  room  where  he  had  spent  such 
varied  hours,  the  last  object  upon  which  his  eye  fell  had 
been  a  pile  of  Continental  time-tables,  which  he  had 
procured  that  morning  as  he  went  to  work,  with  the 
idea  of  thinking  out  a  tour  for  his  mother,  himself,  and 
Astrid.  He  had  decided  that  Sybil  must  be  of  the 
party.  His  wife  and  he  were  not  yet  capable  of  sup- 
porting each  other's  unmixed  society.  He  had  got  as 
far  as  to  say  "  not  yet,"  however ! 

The  design  upon  the  cover  of  the  Belgian  State  Rail- 
ways time-table  dwelt  in  his  memory  as  he  walked ;  and 
there  came  to  him  with  a  pang  the  knowledge  that, 
workless  though  he  was,  he  could  take  no  holiday  now. 
He  must  try  and  "  get  in  "  somewhere  before  he  thought 
of  foreign  tours. 

This  brought  him  right  up  against  the  consideration 
of  how  this  reverse  of  fortune  was  likely  to  affect  his 
marriage.  Oddly  enough,  he  found  himself  wondering 
what  would  have  happened,  supposing  he  had  actually 
done  what  he  so  nearly  did,  supposing  he  had  eloped 
with  Vivien  ? 

Railton  would  have  struck,  as  he  had  struck  now  — 
and  Oliver  would  have  been  almost  a  beggar.  After 
reading  the  letter  he  had  received  that  morning,  he 
knew  how  easily  Vivien  could  have  been  persuaded. 

He  was  thankful  to  have  been  spared  that. 

As  he  walked,  more  or  less  aimlessly,  he  was  seized 
with  the  idea  that  he  would  take  the  train  down  to 
the  west,  and  surprise  Astrid,  before  Friday.  Then 
there  flashed  upon  his  mind  the  disturbing  thought  that 


204      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

she  must  hear  nothing  that  would  agitate  or  distress 
her.  He  could  not  hasten  to  her  with  the  story  of  his 
troubles.  Was  it  possible  that  he  had  desired  to  do  so  ? 

Suddenly  his  mind  was  filled  with  the  question  as  to 
how  he  could  keep  the  news  from  her.  She  was  an 
industrious  newspaper  reader,  as  becomes  a  practical 
journalist;  and  would  certainly  come  upon  it  when  it 
was  made  public,  as  it  would  be  in  a  day  or  two.  Some- 
how or  other  he  must  communicate  with  Tessa,  and  get 
her  to  see  that  such  a  calamity  did  not  occur.  He  hur- 
ried to  his  club  in  order  to  write  a  letter  to  Miss  Selby. 
It  would  not  seem  odd  that  he  should  write,  since  he 
had  to  thank  her  for  sending  him  the  doctor's  report. 
He  sat  down  and  wrote  hastily,  telling  her  the  bare 
fact,  not  mentioning  Railton's  name  —  simply  that  the 
paper  had  changed  hands,  that  he  was  no  longer  editor 
—  that  the  thing  must  inevitably  be  announced,  and 
that  Astrid  was  not  to  see  it.  He  would  break  the  news 
at  his  own  time,  in  his  own.  way.  At  all  costs  her  re- 
covery must  not  be  retarded.  He  said  nothing  of  his 
own  coming.  He  had  not  had  time  to  think  that  out. 

Presently,  glancing  at  the  clock,  he  perceived  that  it 
was  late.  He  went  into  the  dining-room,  lunched,  and 
sat  down  to  smoke  and  reconsider  his  position.  With 
the  exception  of  the  two  Marshes,  father  and  son,  he 
had  no  personal  friends  in  a  position  to  help  him.  Pro- 
fessionally, of  course,  he  knew  most  of  the  journalistic 
authorities. 

Hitherto,  however,  the  fact  of  his  comfortable  home, 
and  the  congenial  circle  of  personal  friends  among 
whom  he  moved,  had  rendered  him  independent,  so- 
cially, of  the  men  with  whom  he  mixed  professionally. 
In  his  sudden  reverse  of  fortune,  he  feiew  this  was  a 
bad  thing.  He  had  no  reason  to  suppose  himself  un- 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     205 

popular ;  but  be  could  think  of  nobody  of  wbom  he  cared 
to  ask  a  favour. 

Not  only  are  editorships  few  in  number,  but  even 
among  such  his  own  range  was  severely  limited.  He 
would  not  care  to  edit  any  paper  that  was  not  literary. 
In  politics,  too,  he  was  antiquated  enough  to  suppose 
that  the  editor  should  be  in  sympathy  with  the  views  of 
the  paper  he  ran. 

That  he  should  again  become  an  editor  seemed,  then, 
out  of  the  question.  The  point  to  consider  was,  what 
could  he  do  instead  ? 

Somehow,  the  thing  did  not  seem  real.  The  Penman 
office  had  stood  to  him  for  so  large  a  portion  of  his  life, 
that  to  be  cut  off  from  it  in  one  stroke  was  hardly  con- 
ceivable. 

He  recalled  the  days,  before  his  engagement  to 
Vivien,  when  he  was  wont  to  see,  at  her  little  table  in 
the  corner  of  his  office,  the  diligent  bent  head  and  busy 
fingers  of  the  secretary  who  was  never  in  the  way.  He 
recalled  her  gravity,  her  flashes  of  fun,  her  eager  inter- 
est in  anything  that  concerned  the  fortunes  of  the  paper, 
her  faculty  for  knowing  the  thing  he  wanted  before  he 
asked  for  it. 

His  work  had  never  seemed  the  same  since  her  de- 
parture. Until  now  he  had,  however,  attributed  this 
fact,  which  was  so  evident,  to  a  very  different  came. 
He  had  thought  that  all  the  world  looked  black  because 
of  his  defeated  love,  his  fiasco  marriage,  his  own  per- 
sonal deterioration.  Now  he  could  no  longer  disguise 
from  himself  how  much  it  would  have  meant  to  him 
to  Me  able  to  tell  her,  as  he  might  have  done  in  the  old 
days,  without  self-consciousness  or  embarrassment,  of 
the  blow  which  had  been  dealt  him,  the  bewildering 
sense  of  bereavement  which  he  was  undergoing.  He 


206      A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

had  an  idea  that  she  might  have  been  able  to  suggest 
something.  She  had  always  been  able  to  suggest  some- 
thing. 

Well!  He  must  on  no  account  confide  in  her  just 
now  —  now  when  all  depended  upon  her  content.  But 
there  was  one  person  to  whom  he  could  go  —  the  mother 
whom  he  had  neglected,  insulted,  left  outside  the  door 
of  his  miserable  heart.  She  would  not  blame,  in  any 
case.  She  would  help  if  she  could,  she  would  comfort, 
without  a  doubt. 

In  the  late  afternoon  he  sallied  forth  and  took  train 
for  Thackridge. 

It  was  a  day  to  melt  the  heart  in  ecstasy.  Two  days 
more  and  the  world  would  burst  into  the  full  glory  of 
June.  The  grass  was  already  deep  in  the  meadows  that 
sloped  away  from  the  Abbot's  House,  down  across  the 
valley  to  the  distant  ridge  upon  which  passed  the  Great 
North  Road,  blaring  with  motors  and  electric  trams. 

The  beauty  of  her  garden,  the  quiet  and  the  song 
of  the  birds,  had  induced  in  Sybil  a  fatal  softness  of 
heart,  that  sense  of  something  unbearable  in  the  sur- 
rounding beauty  of  the  world  which  we  all  feel,  now  and 
then,  even  at  fifty. 

The  absolute  solitude  of  her  life  was  crushing  her. 
In  one  little  hour  she  had  lost  her  lifelong  companion, 
the  young  man  who  had  been,  as  Walter  Waring  truly 
said,  her  idol.  Now  she  sat  alone.  Whether  he  turned 
to  his  wife,  whether  he  went  astray  after  his  early  love, 
or  whether  he  sank  lower  yet,  Oliver  would  never  come 
back  to  his  mother  any  more. 

Her  ruin  had  been  wrought  —  as  her  son's  had  been 
that  day,  if  only  she  had  known  —  in  one  unforeseen 
hour.  Her  heart  lay  empty,  her  love  unclaimed:  and 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     207 

she  felt  rebellious  and  altogether  miserable,  for  some- 
how, at  fifty,  one  cannot  feel  that  life  is  quite  over. 
She  was  still  full  of  health  and  activity,  longing  for 
the  kind  of  happiness  which  until  lately  she  had  always 
known  —  the  delight  of  sharing  in  a  man's  interests,  of 
caring  for  him,  helping  him,  loving  him. 

It  was  over.  Had  it  happened  naturally,  happily  — 
had  she  been  able  to  transfer  her  hopes  from  Oliver  to 
Oliver's  future  son,  she  could  have  borne  the  physical 
absence  of  the  beloved.  Gradually  her  point  of  interest 
would  have  travelled  on.  This  rupture,  sharp  and 
fierce,  was  something  different.  Her  son  had  done 
worse  than  leave  her.  He  had  disappointed  her.  He 
had  cast  upon  her  the  reflected  shame  of  his  own  deed. 
He  had  made  her  feel  that  the  woman  whose  son  could 
so  act  must  have  been  a  bad  mother. 

Humiliation  is  always  worse  to  bear  than  sorrow. 

That  beautiful  afternoon  her  thoughts  were  unusually 
painful.  Oliver  had  always  sympathised  in  her  garden- 
ing interests,  and  this  was  the  first  year  that  she  had 
succeeded  in  arranging  her  succession  border  to  the  very 
day,  so  that  a  new  glory  of  bloom  was  born  as  soon  as 
the  former  passed  away. 

The  thought  that  Oliver  neither  knew  nor  cared  had 
completely  upset  a  calm  which  had  lasted  for  three 
days.  She  gave  way  to  such  weeping  as  made  her  feel 
ashamed  of  herself.  When  Drew  brought  out  the  tea 
she  escaped  down  the  garden  walk,  and  stooping  as 
though  to  fasten  a  broken  flower,  escaped  notice.  Half 
an  hour  later,  Walter  Waring,  walking  unexpectedly 
through  the  drawing-room  window,  found  her  with  tale- 
tell  eyelids. 

He  did  not  at  once  comment  upon  them:  for  his 
Aberdeen,  trotting  at  his  heels,  had  his  usual  snarling 


208      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

encounter  with  the  toy  spaniel,  and  the  two  owners  had 
to  patch  up  the  quarrel,  and  assure  the  two  dogs  that 
they  were  neither  rivals  nor  enemies,  but  the  best  of 
friends. 

This  accomplished,  and  fresh  tea  brought,  the  Colonel 
drank  with  appreciation.  Afterwards,  leaning  back  in 
his  desk  chair,  he  laid  one  of  his  muscular  hands  over 
hers,  and  said  firmly: 

"  Darling,  this  can't  go  on." 

She  did  not  pretend  to  ignore  his  meaning.  She 
raised  her  heavy  lids  with  a  wan  smile.  "  It  must  go 
on,  Walter.  By  degrees  I  shall  get  used  to  it." 

"  I  never  shall,  which  is  the  important  point." 

She  looked  at  him  wistfully. 

"  Sybil,"  he  said,  "  it  is  now  or  never.  There  is  no 
need  to  go  over  the  thing  again.  I  have  waited  pa- 
tiently for  this  moment  —  for  the  moment  when  you 
shouljd,  as  I  knew  you  must  —  lose  Oliver.  If  you 
don't  marry  me  now,  I  know  you  never  will.  But  I 
feel  pretty  sure  that  you  had  better.  A  woman  with 
a  heart  like  yours  was  never  meant  to  live  alone.  O, 
my  dear" — leaning  towards  her,  he  possessed  himself 
of  her  hand,  holding  it  in  both  his  own  — "  you  might 
make  me  so  happy :  and  he  does  not  want  you  now." 

She  made  no  answer,  and  he  spoke  once  more,  gently 
but  resolutely :  "  I  have  been  patient.  Now  at  last, 
this  is  the  end.  If  you  say  No  to  me  this  afternoon, 
I  shall  not  ask  you  again;  and  I  shall  leave  Thack- 
ridge." 

"  O,  Walter,  isn't  that  putting  unfair  pressure  on 
me  ?  What  will  become  of  me  if  you  go  away  ?  " 

"  I  know  what  will  become  of  me,  if  I  do.  I  shall 
be  an  old  man,  a  downright  old  man,  in  a  few  weeks. 
Whereas,  if  I  may  be  with  you  always,  I  feel  as  if  I 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     209 

shall  never  know  the  meaning  of  old  age,  nor  of  weari- 
ness of  life.  Don't  you  care  about  me  at  all. 
Sybil?" 

"  I  do.  But  I  hardly  know  how  much,"  she  an- 
swered, in  broken  tones.  "  I  did  not  want  you  as  long 
as  I  had  —  him.  It  seems,  somehow,  insulting  to  you, 
to  be  ready  to  marry  you  now  that  I  am  left  alone." 

"Tut,  tut!"  said  he  fondly.  "If  I  am  con- 
tent   "  He  broke  off,  thinking  for  a  moment,  then 

resumed  — "  Sybil,  I  know  all  about  you.  I  have 
known  you  almost  ever  since  your  widowhood.  I  have 
loved  you  all  the  time.  You  have  always  been  kind  to 
me,  have  seemed  to  value  my  friendship,  and  to  have 
forgiven  the  fact  that  I  made  a  grave  mistake  in  the 
early  days  by  asking  you  to  be  my  wife  too  soon.  Now 
it  is  almost  too  late.  If  quite,  then  I  have  made  my 
second  and  last  mistake,  my  dear." 

All  in  a  moment  she  knew  what  the  comfort  of  him 
would  be.  A  true,  kind  soul,  to  fill  the  emptiness  of 
her  days  —  one  who  understood  her,  and  would  never 
be  intrusive  nor  tiresome. 

"  O,  Walter,  can  you  be  content  with  such  a  grudging 
capitulation !  To  have  me  take  you  because  I  have  no- 
body else  in  all  the  world  to  care  about  me  ? " 

"  So  long  as  you  take  me  at  all,  darling  —  You  will  ? 
O,  God  bless  you,  I  hardly  dared  to  hope  it !  " 

He  snatched  her  hands,  and  bent  his  fine  head  above 
them,  kissing  them  like  a  boy:  and  as  he  did  so,  Sybil 
looked  up,  and  saw  her  only  son  standing  in  the  open 
window. 

She  gave  a  little  gasp.  "  O,  Walter!  There  is 
Oliver !  "  She  sprang  to  her  feet.  Her  comely  face 
was  still  deeply  coloured,  her  lips  quivered  with  an 
emotion  half  pain  half  pleasure.  She  hastened  towards 


210      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

her  son,  who  stood  irresolute,  then  came  forward  to 
meet  her. 

"  Mother !  "  he  said  — "  does  this  mean " 

The  Colonel  answered  for  her.  "  Yes,  Oliver,  it 
does.  Your  mother  is  to  be  my  wife.  I  expect  you 
know  I  have  always  worshipped  the  ground  she  walked 
on." 

"I  —  I  suppose  I  did,"  said  Oliver,  a  little  hur- 
riedly, hardly  knowing  how  to  take  this  news.  "  I 
hope  —  I  should  say  —  why,  I  believe  I  must  wait  till 
I  have  got  my  breath.  This  is  so  sudden,  you  see !  " 

The  sound  of  his  voice,  the  look  in  his  eyes  caused 
a  throb  of  the  mother's  heart  This  was  surely  her 
own  Oliver,  the  real  Oliver,  her  son  and  darling,  come 
back!  Was  the  mocking  fiend  exorcised?  If  so,  how, 
and  by  whom?  Had  she  been  just  five  minutes  too 
soon  ?  Ought  she  to  have  waited  yet  longer  ?  Oh,  she 
might  have  known  that  he  would  come  back  —  that  the 
devil  would  be  driven  out  of  him!  .  .  .  Had  she  hurt 
him,  done  something  he  could  not  pardon  ?  She  trem- 
bled at  the  thought,  coming  near  to  him  with  beseeching 
eyes.  A  couple  of  months  back  she  would  have  clung 
to  him,  but  now  she  doubted:  and  Oliver,  with  the  re- 
membrance of  his  own  atrocious  behaviour  behind  him, 
was  terribly  shy. 

"Yes,  yes,  our  affairs  will  wait,"  breathed  the 
mother.  "  Come  and  sit  down,  Ollie ;  have  some  tea ! 
Is  Astrid  with  you  ?  How  have  you  found  time  to  come 
down  and  see  me  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  Astrid  is  not  here.  You  have  heard  about 
her  accident?  I  have  only  run  down  just  for  a  peep 
at  you,"  he  replied  at  once.  He  spoke  soothingly,  for 
suddenly  it  dawned  upon  him  that  his  mother  was  ter- 
ribly agitated  and  unlike  herself.  There  was  an  appeal 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     211 

in  her  look,  as  though  she  feared  his  displeasure,  an 
anxiety,  a  wistfulness,  which  struck  him  as  infinitely 
pathetic. 

"  I  have  been  such  an  unexampled  brute,"  he  said 
to  himself,  "  she  thinks  that  I  am  going  to  be  angry  with 
her  —  to  raise  objections.  That  would  come  with  a 
good  grace  from  me  after  my  own  behaviour. —  I  sup- 
pose Astrid  told  you  about  her  accident?"  he  added 
aloud. 

Sybil  paused  in  the  act  of  pouring  out  his  cup  of  tea. 
"  She  did  mention  having  been  knocked  down  by  a 
motor,  but  made  very  light  of  it.  Surely  she  was  not 
seriously  hurt  ? " 

"  ~N — no.  But  she  had  a  pain  in  her  back,  and  I 
insisted  upon  her  seeing  a  doctor.  He  hopes  she  will 
be  all  right  in  a  few  days,  but  told  me  that  she  had  had 
a  nervous  shock,  and  ought  to  be  taken  great  care  of." 

He  spoke  with  his  eyes  upon  the  grass,  munching  a' 
sandwich,  and  holding  his  teacup  in  his  hand.  He 
made  his  voice  as  calm  as  he  could. 

"  Tell  us  all  about  it,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  I  have 
heard  nothing  of  this  accident.  To  be  knocked  down 
by  a  motor  sounds  alarming." 

"  It  seems  to  have  been  going  dead  slow.  She  was 
in  the  middle  of  the  road,  trying  to  choke  that  beastly 
Irish  terrier  of  Selby's  off  another  dog,  whom  he  had  by 
the  throat.  She  actually  did  so,  with  the  greatest 
pluck,  but  was  so  absorbed  that  she  did  not  hear  the 
motor  hoot." 

They  went  on  pressing  him  for  details,  and  he  told 
as  much  as  he  thought  prudent,  avoiding,  however,  all 
mention  of  the  word  "  Dormouth." 

He  described  how  he  had  come  along  the  road  just 
after  the  accident,  and  found  his  wife  sitting,  half 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

faint,  upon  the  step  of  the  car ;  and  how  concerned  the 
owner  had  been.  "  He  is  a  Mr.  Wolfe,  a  wealthy 
bachelor  who  lives  about  twenty  miles  off.  He  has 
twice  been  to  inquire  since,  so  they  tell  me." 

"  And  I  suppose  you  will  be  going  down  at  the  week- 
end ?"  said  Sybil. 

"  I  shall  if  I  can  get  away.  But  I  don't  feel  posi- 
tively certain.  I  am  very  busy  this  week." 

He  hardly  knew  what  he  replied,  for  all  the  while 
he  talked  his  mind  was  working  busily.  His  mother 
was  contemplating  re-marriage.  What  difference  would 
this  make  to  him  ? 

The  allowance  she  had  made  him,  since  his  Oxford 
days,  had  been  discontinued  since  he  acquired  his  editor- 
ship, on  the  understanding  that  the  amount  represented 
what  he  now  desired  to  contribute  towards  the  house- 
keeping. Instead  of  his  mother  paying  him  his  allow- 
ance, and  his  repaying  it  in  the  form  of  board-money, 
it  had  been  simpler  to  let  it  lapse.  Mrs.  Brendon  had 
complete  control,  for  life,  of  his  father's  money.  He 
was  not  penniless.  He  had  never  lived  up  to  his  in- 
come, and  had  some  hundreds  invested  in  one  thing  and 
another.  There  was  enough  to  keep  him  for  a  while, 
but  considered  as  the  basis  of  an  income  the  amount 
was  negligible.  He  had  rested  upon  the  thought  that 
his  mother's  house  was  open  to  his  wife  and  himself 
until  they  could  make  further  plans.  Now  she  was  to 
be  married,  and  it  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  Col- 
onel would  see  any  reason  for  delay.  She  might  not 
feel  able  to  continue  his  allowance  —  she  would  cer- 
tainly not  want  to  have  him  and  his  wife  quartered  upon 
her  during  the  first  few  months  of  her  new  married  life. 

His  eyes  fell  upon  the  face  of  Walter  Waring,  alight 
with  a  joy,  a  fervour  which  seemed  a  little  surprising. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     213 

Oliver  was  still  young  enough  to  feel  fifty  to  be  the 
bourne  of  all  things.  To  begin  life  again  at  fifty !  It 
sounded  dreary.  Yet  the  faces  of  the  two  people  be- 
side him  wore  the  reflection  of  an  ageless  emotion. 

With  a  pang,  half  jealous,  half  envious,  he  felt  that 
he  could  not  select  this  moment  to  break  to  his  mother 
news  so  distressing  as  his  loss  of  employment.  He 
knew  her  devotion  to  him.  It  was  shown  in  every 
look,  every  movement.  The  Colonel  meant  much  to 
her,  but  he  was  not  Oliver,  her  only  son.  In  the  light 
of  their  hopefulness,  hope  came  to  Oliver.  It  was, 
after  all,  just  possible  that  he  might  "  get  in  "  some- 
where in  the  course  of  the  next  few  days,  or  weeks,  and 
then  he  need  not  tell  his  mother  of  his  change  of  fortune 
until  he  could  also  tell  her  what  his  new  work  was. 

He  choked  back  all  that  he  had  come  prepared  to 
say,  and  turned  to  the  Colonel  with  a  smile  which  had 
no  resentment  in  it. 

"  But  let  us  talk  of  you  and  my  mother,"  he  said. 
"  I  suppose  now  that  she  has  given  in  at  last,  you  won't 
be  letting  the  grass  grow  —  eh  ? " 

"  It  should  be  to-morrow  morning  if  I  had  my  way," 
was  the  reply.  "  But  women  won't  be  rushed  like  that. 
I  feel  I  owe  you  an  apology,  Oliver,  for  I  fear  you'll 
have  to  put  up  with  my  presence  in  the  house  that's 
always  been  your  home  till  now.  But  I  know  you  will 
agree  with  me  that  it  would  be  cruel  to  turn  your  mother 
out  of  the  Abbot's  House." 

"  Of  course,"  assented  Oliver  promptly  and  warmly. 
His  demeanour  had  the  effect  of  causing  his  mother's 
tears  to  run  over  and  slip  down  her  cheeks.  How 
charming  he  was !  How  dear !  He  was  just  like  his 
old  self,  courteous,  considerate,  loving. 

"  No,  not  to-morrow  precisely,"  went  on  the  Colonel, 


214,      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

following  up  his  own  train  of  thought,  "  but  as  soon  as 
it  can  be  done.  In  three  weeks,  eh,  Sybil  ?  " 

"  In  a  month,"  said  Sybil  weakly.  She  was  sur- 
prised at  herself  for  saying  it.  But  the  thing  was  to 
be  done,  and  she  had  a  feeling  that  it  would  be  well  to 
get  it  over. 

Oliver  was  still  shy;  he  could  not  face  his  mother's 
eyes.  He  put  out  his  hand  and  took  hers,  a  very  rare 
demonstration  on  his  part. 

She  grasped  his  passionately,  fighting  down  her  rush 
of  feeling. 

It  seemed  like  a  miracle  that  he  should  have  come, 
just  then,  to  take  away  her  haunting  scruples  and  give 
her  leave  to  be  happy. 

"  You'll  stay  and  dine,  Ollie,  won't  you,  dear  ? "  she 
whispered,  when  she  could  trust  her  voice. 

"  No,  mums,  I  mustn't.  I  am  frightfully  hard  at 
work.  Besides,  two  is  company  —  there's  no  need  to 
complete  the  platitude,  is  there  ? " 


CHAPTER  XX 

A  lady!     In  the  narrow  space 

Between  the  husband  and  the  wife, 
But  nearest  him,  she  showed  a  face 

With  dangers  rife. —  JEAN  INGELOW. 

IT  was  Saturday  morning.  Astrid  sat  alone  upon  the 
moor,  keeping  guard  over  the  camp. 

Her  face  was  pale,  and  she  looked  as  if  she  had  not 
slept. 

It  seemed  to  her  as  though  years  had  elapsed  since 
yesterday. 

Towards  dawn  of  the  previous  day,  the  weather 
changed,  the  wind  rose,  and  her  sleep  had  been  visited 
by  dreams.  In  her  dream  she  saw  Oliver  in  rags  and 
bare-footed,  standing  upon  the  other  bank  of  a  river, 
and  forbidding  her  to  cross.  "  I  can  swim,  I  can  swim, 
let  me  come  to  you,"  she  had  pleaded:  and  he  had  an- 
swered, "  What  help  can  you  be  ?  I  don't  want  you. 
Go  away ! " 

In  the  trouble  caused  by  this  dream  she  awoke,  to 
hear  the  rain  pouring  down  upon  the  roof  of  the  caravan 
and  the  wind  moaning  in  the  fir  trees:  awoke  to  the 
joy  of  knowing  that  it  was  not  true !  Snuggling  down 
in  the  comfort  of  her  bed,  she  had  told  herself  that  it 
was  only  a  dream.  To-day  was  Friday,  and  Oliver  had 
said  he  was  coming.  She  was  well  —  she  could  walk 
without  pain  in  her  back  —  she  was  counting  the  mo- 
ments till  he  came.  Would  he  still  wear  the  new  aspect 

215 


216      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

of  kindness  and  sympathy,  or  was  it  only  her  being  hurt 
which  had  evoked  his  pity,  just  for  a  minute  ? 

That  day  she  would  know.  The  rain  would  stop  — 
oh  yes,  of  course  — "  Rain  before  seven,  fine  at  eleven  " 
—  and  she  would  take  him  to  walk  in  her  favourite 
wood,  and  show  him  the  little  glen  where,  under  the 
moss,  was  a  heap  of  grey  stones  which  she  was  certain 
was  the  remains  of  an  ancient  forest  altar. 

The  rain  had  tried  her  faith  severely,  but  it  had  duly 
cleared  off  soon  after  eleven,  gliding  away  over  the  sea, 
with  the  farewell  smile  of  a  glorious  rainbow,  and 
leaving  everything  gladdened  and-  refreshed,  every 
grass-blade  a-glitter,  all  colour  intensified  in  the  lovely 
dewiness. 

In  the  first  hotly  poured  glory  of  the  sunshine,  the 
girl  had  run  to  the  road  to  watch  for  the  appearance 
of  the  farmer's  boy  who  brought  the  letters. 

There  was  one  in  Oliver's  writing,  and  for  her.  She 
carried  it  out  of  sight  of  Dan  and  Tessa,  and  her  fingers 
shook  as  she  opened  it. 

Then  the  glow  and  splendour  of  the  day  died,  as  the 
sun  slipped  behind  a  huge  purple  cloud.  Oliver  was 
not  coming. 

It  was  the  only  solution  he  could  plan.  He  was  in 
all  the  discouragement  of  the  man  who,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  looks  for  work  in  London.  His 
mother's  marriage  was  heavy  on  his  heart.  He  could 
not  see  into  the  future,  it  seemed  to  him  that  all  was 
dark.  How  could  he  come  to  Astrid  and  hide  all  this  ? 
He  felt  that  he  could  not.  If  he  had  to  pass  two  or 
three  days  in  her  company,  what  was  there  to  talk 
about,  since  he  could  not  mention  either  of  the  subjects 
which  were  absorbing  him?  And  even  if  he  did  not 
speak  of  it,  he  would  not  be  able  to  conceal  his  depres- 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     217 

sion,  and  she  would  be  troubled.  The  only  thing  to  do, 
since  she  must  not  be  disturbed  nor  distressed,  was  to 
keep  away.  Knowing  as  his  wife  did,  all  the  affairs  of 
the  paper,  it  was  difficult  to  make  his  excuses  sound  as 
convincing  as  could  be  wished.  He  had  to  He  pretty 
roundly. 

Poor  fellow!  He  wrote  out  of  a  miserable  heart. 
To  not  a  soul  had  he  been  able  to  mention  his  circum- 
stances, except  to  the  more  or  less  uninterested  ears  of 
men  who  ceased  to  be  glad  to  see  him  the  moment  they 
found  out  that  he  wanted  something. 

To  have  poured  out  the  story  to  Astrid  —  Astrid  who 
knew  and  loved  the  Penman  almost  as  he  did  —  would 
have  been  a  supreme  relief.  But  in  his  new-found  and 
slowly  growing  unselfishness,  he  forewent  a  strong  de- 
sire, because  his  conscience  accused  him  of  so  much 
unkindness  to  his  wife  in  the  past,  that  he  would  not 
add  to  the  sum  of  it  by  retarding  her  convalescence. 

So,  at  much  personal  sacrifice,  he  did  the  very  worst 
thing  he  could  have  done.  The  loss  of  his  appoint- 
ment would  have  affected  Astrid  only  inasmuch  as 
it  affected  him.  She  would  have  risen  to  the  occa- 
sion, put  heart  into  him,  overflowed  with  plans  and 
designs.  Nothing  could  have  hurt  and  distressed  her 
like  his  absence. 

Being  all  unconscious  of  the  nervous  tendency  in  her 
which  the  doctor  had  discovered,  she  was  unaware  of 
the  sudden  change  which  took  place  in  her  demeanour, 
directly  she  knew  that  Oliver  was  not  to  be  expected. 
She  was,  as  always,  courteous  and  gentle,  and  scrupu- 
lous in  the  performance  of  her  secretarial  duties:  but 
the  light  had  gone  out  of  her. 

The  flow  of  spirits  which  had  been  increasing  ever 
since  her  husband's  visit  last  week,  disappeared.  She 


218      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

had  the  look,  the  expression  of  a  woman  who  could  not 
make  a  joke. 

It  was  very  obvious  to  Dan,  and  it  cut  him  to  the 
heart.  At  all  risks  Oliver  ought  to  have  come  down. 
Even  Tessa,  who  knew  the  young  husband's  motive  in 
part,  though  the  full  extent  of  the  catastrophe  was  not 
confided  to  her  —  thought  that  he  had  made  a  great  mis- 
take. 

Astrid's  appetite  was  gone.  They  could  see,  at 
lunch,  that  it  was  all  she  could  do  to  swallow  food  at  all. 
The  oppression  she  suffered  was  so  great,  that  at  any 
moment  it  might  have  found  vent  in  a  storm  of  tears, 
but  for  her  relentless  self-control. 

She  sat  down  after  lunch,  ready  for  her  afternoon's 
dictation ;  and  Dan,  feeling  that  he  ought  not  to  notice 
her  unhappiness,  prepared  to  do  his  part.  But  an 
hour's  blundering  showed  him  that,  for  that  afternoon, 
detachment  was  impossible.  He  could  not  fix  upon  the 
creatures  of  his  imagination  an  attention  already  con- 
centrated upon  the  high-strung  girl  before  him.  He 
had  to  own  that  he  was  not  in  the  mood ;  and  his  secre- 
tary became  reluctantly  conscious  of  the  extent  to  which 
his  humour  depended  upon  her  own. 

The  fact  did  not  now  strike  her  for  the  first  time. 
She  doubted  the  wisdom  of  her  employment.  A  man 
so  sensitive  ought  not  to  dictate.  He  ought  to  shut 
himself  up  alone  and  write  down  his  own  thoughts. 
The  presence  of  another  person  influenced  him  too 
much. 

She  dared  not,  however,  suggest  that  she  was  bold 
enough  to  fancy  that  his  inspiration  depended  upon  her 
sympathy.  She  contented  herself  with  talking  to  him 
seriously  of  the  danger  of  taking  it  into  one's  head  that 
one  cannot  write,  and  doing  it  only  when  "  in  the 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     219 

mood."  "  The  mood  comes,"  said  Astrid  gravely. 
"  The  mood  comes,  if  you  wait  upon  it." 

"  It  won't  come  this  afternoon,"  returned  Dan 
shortly,  "  so  we  had  better  go  for  a  stroll." 

The  stroll  resolved  itself  into  a  kind  of  duel  between 
them,  Dan  wistfully  seeking  a  confidence,  Astrid  deter- 
mined upon  being  wholly  impersonal.  The  novelist 
returned  from  that  walk  with  a  new  impression  of 
feminine  reserve  and  feminine  determination.  He 
knew  Astrid  too  well  not  to  see  the  restraint  which  she 
was  putting  upon  herself.  He  was  growing  baffled, 
hurt,  half  angry:  a  dangerous  mood  for  a  man  who  as 
a  rule  lived  mostly  in  the  clouds. 

On  Saturday  morning,  conscious  of  a  temper  that 
was  wearing  thin,  he  removed  himself  out  of  sight  of 
the  fixed  white  face  and  veiled  eyes  which  tried  his 
patience  so  acutely.  He  went  for  a  long  walk,  in  the 
hope,  so  he  said,  of  finding  a  place  near  enough  to  the 
heart  of  civilisation  for  him  to  get  his  fountain-pen 
mended.  Tessa  set  forth  as  usual  to  do  the  Saturday 
marketing;  and  Astrid,  who  was  not  yet  allowed  to 
walk  far,  remained  in  charge  of  the  camp. 

She  sat  among  the  gorse,  thinking  of  last  Saturday, 
and  her  terror  of  apprehension.  She  lived  over  again 
her  own  sensations  when,  sitting  upon  the  step  of  Mr. 
Wolfe's  motor,  she  had  seen  her  husband  appear  over 
the  brow  of  the  hill.  She  thought,  too,  of  the  grip  of 
his  vigorous  arms,  as  he  lifted  her  to  and  from  the 
hammock,  each  time  with  increasing  ability  and  con- 
fidence. 

Oh,  if  she  could  but  still  the  craving  of  her  starved 
heart! 

That  day,  for  the  first  time,  she  reviewed  her  posi- 
tion as  one  grown  desperate. 


220      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

As  long  as  she  was  with  Sybil  she  had  not  actually 
despaired,  not  even  after  the  terrible  interview  in  the 
library.  Sybil  had  urged  that  Oliver  was  mad  —  he 
had  been  taken  hold  of  by  a  passion  which  had  mastered 
him;  but  such  passions  are  never  lasting.  He  would 
come  back,  one  day,  to  wisdom  and  sanity;  and  would 
be  grateful  to  the  woman  whose  existence  had  kept  him 
from  wrecking  his  whole  life. 

Now,  in  her  desolation,  Astrid  told  herself  that  Mrs. 
Brendon  had  never  faced  the  truth.  Oliver  had  al- 
ready wrecked  his  life :  that  was  done  when  he  married 
Astrid  Carey.  It  was  too  late  to  save  him.  He  had 
made  an  honest  effort  to  tolerate  her  —  he  had  duly 
arrived  to  pass  a  week-end  in  her  company.  He  had 
shown  his  natural  good-feeling  by  his  sympathetic 
anxiety  for  her  at  the  time  of  her  accident;  but  his 
courage  had  not  been  equal  to  a  repetition  of  the  experi- 
ment. 

There  was  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter. 

With  all  the  strength  that  was  in  her,  Astrid  that 
morning  wished  for  death. 

The  long,  arid  years  of  her  life  lay  before  her.  She 
saw  herself  the  object  of  the  negligent  pity  of  the  world. 
A  neglected  wife!  One  whose  husband  chose  solitude, 
rather  than  her  company.  For  the  first  time  she  began 
to  think  of  suicide  as  not  altogether  beyond  the  pale  of 
possible  solutions. 

Since  the  beginning  of  the  week,  she  had  not  heard 
from  her  mother-in-law.  Sybil,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
was  waiting  to  hear  from  her.  She  concluded  that 
Oliver,  upon  leaving  the  Abbot's  House  on  Wednesday, 
would  have  conveyed  the  news  at  once  to  his  wife :  and 
she  awaited  Astrid's  letter  with  a  curious  nervousness. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     221 

Her  daughter-in-law's  opinion  had  already  grown  to 
mean  something  that  mattered  to  her. 

Oliver,  however,  had  in  his  overwhelming  concern 
for  his  wife's  unbroken  peace,  kept  this  news  from  her 
as  carefully  as  that  of  his  own  change  of  fortune. 

Astrid  was  thus  completely  isolated  from  the  only 
creatures  in  the  world  who  belonged  to  her,  with  the 
solitary  exception  of  the  Dublin  aunt,  whom  she  had 
not  seen  for  five  years. 

A  dim  idea  of  going  over  to  Ireland,  without  previ- 
ously stating  her  intention  to  Oliver,  came  to  her.  She 
had  funds  enough,  and  could  easily  reach.  Fishguard 
from  Bristol,  and  so  cross  to  Dublin.  There,  she  could 
in  all  probability  earn  a  living  of  a  kind. 

If  her  separation  from  her  husband  were  to  be  per- 
manent, as  now  seemed  certain,  it  was  obvious  that  she 
could  not  retain  a  post  which  would  keep  her  in  Thack- 
ridge. 

Lost  in  such  dreary  thought,  she  sat,  her  knees  drawn 
up,  her  arms  resting  upon  them,  and  her  brow  upon 
her  arms,  a  very  figure  of  despair.  She  heard  a  motor 
humming  along  the  road  —  heard  the  engines  stop,  and 
the  distant  sound  of  voices.  At  first  she  thought  it 
might  be  Mr.  Wolfe,  come  to  see  if  he  could  drive  her 
anywhere.  He  had  taken  her  for  a  run,  several  times, 
and  she  was  growing  to  have  a  real  regard  for  him. 
Unattractive  as  he  was  at  first  sight,  he  was  a  man  of 
•wide  reading  and  abreast  of  his  times.  He  happened 
to  be  a  constant  reader  of  the  Penman  and  thought  it 
ably  edited.  The  discovery  that  Astrid  was  the  edi- 
tor's wife  had  disposed  him  favourably  towards  her. 

A  moment's  reflection,  however,  told  her  that  this 
was  not  Mr.  Wolfe's  car,  which  had  a  somewhat  un- 


222      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

usual  kind  of  horn,  so  that  she  knew  it  from  a  distance. 
Forgetting  that  she  was  in  charge  of  the  camp,  she  sat 
where  she  was  for  some  moments,  without  moving. 
Then  suddenly,  feeling  instinctively  that  some  one  was 
approaching,  she  lifted  her  head  and  saw  a  figure  in  a 
motor  dust-cloak  and  veil,  standing  among  the  gorse  at 
a  short  distance  staring  at  her. 

For  a  long  moment  neither  girl  moved.  Vivien 
Railton  stood  still,  Astrid  Brendon  sat  motionless:  and 
they  stared  at  each  other  without  a  word.  Then,  as 
though  stung  by  a  sudden  thought,  without  preface, 
yivien  burst  out: 

«Is  Oliver  here?" 

Astrid  raised  her  arms,  shook  back  her  hair,  and  re- 
fixed  the  comb  from  which  it  was  in  part  escaping. 
"  No,"  she  returned  unemotionally.  "  He  is  in  Lon- 
don. Did  you  want  to  see  him  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  not ! "  cried  Vivien  vehemently. 
"  Never  again  so  long  as  I  live !  " 

Astrid  lifted  eyes  of  dull  surprise  to  the  flaming  face. 
"  You  seem  upset,"  she  remarked,  picking  a  piece  of 
broom,  and  absently  stripping  its  butterfly  bloom. 

"  Upset !  I'm  perfectly  miserable !  Heart-broken !  " 
cried  Vivien  immoderately.  "  I  hate  you !  What  are 
you  doing  here,  living  like  a  gipsy  when  your  husband 
is  in  London  ?  I  little  thought,  when  I  got  out  of  the 
car  to  see  if  there  were  gipsies  here,  whom  I  should  find ! 
But  now  I  have  come,  I  will  give  you  a  piece  of  my 
mind " 

"  Thanks !  I  don't  want  it,"  replied  Astrid  un- 
civilly. 

"  You're  sure  he  isn't  here  ? "  pursued  Mrs.  Railton, 
advancing  nearer,  unrebuffed. 

"  Quite  sure." 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"  Then  I'll  give  you  a  message  from  me  to  him,  and 
see  that  he  gets  it " 

" —  I  won't !  Why  should  I  give  a  message  from 
you  to  Oliver?  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing!  Go 
away !  "  cried  Astrid,  roused  at  last.  She  sprang  to  her 
feet  and  confronted  Vivien  with  raised  colour  and 
heaving  breast.  "You  had  better  go  away,"  she  re- 
peated. "  We  rent  this  bit  of  the  moor,  and  it  is 
private." 

Vivien  stamped.  "  I  won't  go  away  till  I  have  told 
you  what  I  think!  Was  it  your  idea,  I  wonder,  that 
he  should  give  his  letter  to  Calvert  to  bring  to  me? 
Well,  it  was  simply  a  fiendish  thing  to  do!  O  yes,  I 
don't  wonder  at  your  being  furious  with  Calvert!  I 
told  him  it  was  a  mean,  mean  vengeance  to  take  —  to 
pay  a  man  out  by  taking  the  very  bread  out  of  his 
mouth !  But,  you  see,  the  whole  thing  was  a  mistake, 
and  if  you  would  have  a  minute's  patience  I  could 
explain." 

Astrid  had  gone  from  red  to  pale.  Her  heart  beat 
heavily,  and  she  felt  giddy.  What  was  she  about  to 
hear  ?  Whence  came  this  disturbing  vision  of  Vivien  ? 
Was  it  treachery  to  Oliver  to  listen,  or  might  she  glean 
something  that  would  enlighten  her  a  little  2  Taking 
the  very  bread  out  of  his  mouth!  What  could  that 
mean? 

"I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about,"  she 
stammered. 

"  I  dare  say  you  don't  know  the  whole  story,"  replied 
Vivien  dolefully,  "  but  please,  please,  do  let  me  show 
you  that  I  am  not  so  much  to  blame  as  you  perhaps 
think !  When  I  saw  you  sitting  out  here,  with  only  a 
caravan  to  live  in,  just  for  a  moment  I  had  the  awful 
thought  that  you  had  no  other  home  —  that  Calvert  had 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

done  this!  I  feel  that  he  has  turned  you  out,  robbed 
and  ruined  you  both,  and  he  wouldn't  have  done  it  if 
he  had  know  the  real  reason  why  Oliver  came  to  Dor- 
mouth  last  Sunday." 

Astrid  could  only  stare. 

"Please,  please  don't  be  so  miserable,"  pleaded 
Vivien,  abandoning  all  attempt  at  dignity  and  beginning 
to  sob.  "  Of  all  people  in  the  world  I  did  not  want  to 
see,  you  are  the  very  one;  but  as  we  have  met,  do  let 
me  explain —  Ah,  do!  I  don't  want  you  to  blame 
me  too  much  for  all  this  dreadful  trouble." 

"  I  don't  blame  you,"  said  Astrid,  bewildered. 

"Well,  you  see,  it  was  like  this,"  broke  out  Vivien, 
apparently  considering  herself  sufficiently  encouraged 
to  continue.  "  When  you  came  to  Dormouth  last  Sun- 
day —  you  did  come,  to  see  the  doctor,  didn't  you  ? " 

"Yes,  Mr.  Spence  brought  Oliver  and  me  in  the 
motor." 

"  Then  what  Oliver  told  me  is  true.  I  saw  him,  but 
I  didn't  see  you.  He  came  into  the  Palace  Hotel, 
where  we  were  staying." 

"Yes?" 

"  Well,  he  didn't  see  me,  but  I  instantly  thought  he 
must  have  come  to  Dormouth  because  —  because  he 
knew  I  was  there.  And  Calvert  saw  him  too,  in  the 
hotel,  and  afterwards  on  the  sea-front  —  both  times  he 
was  quite  alone.  Calvert  actually  spoke  to  him,  and  he 
never  mentioned  your  being  there,  but  seemed  annoyed 
at  being  spoken  to.  So,  of  course,  Calvert  thought  as 
I  did.  If  he  had  not,  I  do  assure  you  he  never  would 
have  bought  the  paper!  He  has  always  wanted  an 
English  newspaper  to  handle,  but  he  had  decided  he 
could  not  buy  the  Penman  because  Oliver  was  editor. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

He  only  did  it  to  punish  Oliver  for  running  after  me ! 
Oh,  can  you  imagine  anything  so  dreadful  ? " 

Astrid  locked  her  fingers  tightly  together.  Her  eyes 
were  blazing.  "  Go  on,"  she  muttered. 

"  Well,"  said  Vivien  once  more,  this  being  apparently 
the  only  narrative  formula  she  had  at  command. 
"  You  see,  I  was  certain  that  Oliver  had  come  after 
me,  although  the  real  truth  was,  that  he  did  not  even 
know  we  were  there !  Anyhow,  I  wrote  to  him,  a  very 
stupid  letter :  and  what  do  you  think  he  did  ?  Do  you 
know?" 

Astrid  shook  her  head. 

"  He  handed  his  answer  to  Calvert,  and  asked  him 
to  take  it  to  me !  So  that  evening,  Calvert  came  back 
to  me  from  London,  very  quiet  —  you  know  he  never 
gets  angry  —  and  he  made  me  open  the  letter  and  read 
it  and  let  him  read  it.  So,  of  course,  he  found  out 
about  Oliver  not  having  known  I  was  here,  and  what 
was  worse,  he  found  out  that  I  had  written  to  him !  " 
She  broke  off,  for  tears  suddenly  gushed  out  and  im- 
peded her  utterance.  Astrid  had  not  time  to  analyse 
the  feeling  that  was  invading  her.  She  only  felt  that, 
come  what  might,  she  must  hear  all  that  Vivien  could 
tell  her.  Stepping  forward,  she  grasped  the  tiny,  futile 
hand. 

"  Don't  cry !  Be  sensible !  Let  me  hear  your  side 
of  the  matter!  Sit  down,  and  go  on." 

Vivien  sat  down  as  desired,  staring  doubtfully  at  the 
other  girl's  flushed  face. 

"  Has  Oliver  —  not  told  you  —  what  I  did  3  " 

"  I  haven't  seen  him  since  Monday,  and  it's  not  the 
sort  of  thing  you  write,"  said  Astrid,  confused,  but 
hiding  her  confusion  as  well  as  she  could.  "  Oliver 


226      A    MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

can  tell  me  his  part  when  he  comes  —  you  tell  me  what 
Mr.  Railton  did,  when  he  found  out  that  you  had 
written  to  Oliver  ?  " 

"  He  was  terrible.  I  have  never  seen  him  like  that 
before.  He  had  to  go  back  to  London  the  following 
day,  because,  you  see,  Oliver  having  left  him  in  the 
lurch,  he  did  not  know  what  to  do.  We  were  to  have 
sailed  to-day,  but  we  must  wait  till  next  week  now " 

"  How  do  you  mean  that  Oliver  had  left  him  in  the 
lurch?" 

"  Why,  you  see,  as  soon  as  Oliver  was  told  who  had 
bought  the  paper,  he  just  walked  out  of  the  office  there 
and  then !  He  declined  to  set  foot  in  an  office  that  be- 
longed to  Calvert :  and  you  can't  wonder,  can  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Astrid,  whose  eyes  were  sparkling  with 
something  remarkably  like  triumph.  "  You  can't !  " 

"  Just  what  I  told  Calvert,  but  he  said  he  would  bring 
an  action ;  only  then  he  found  out  he  couldn't,  because 
Mr.  Marsh  and  Oliver  had  only  had  an  agreement  for 
three  years,  and  they  had  been  together  for  nearly  five, 
and  had  not  had  a  fresh  one!  So  he  has  no  remedy." 

"  I  see.     What  will  he  do  ?  " 

"He  has  cabled  for  one  of  his  best  men  from  New 
York,  and  he  must  put  things  in  train  for  him,  in  fact 
he  is  not  sure  that  he  must  not  wait  until  he  comes. 
He  would  have  got  out  of  his  bargain  if  he  could,  but 
unfortunately,  it  had  all  been  done,  hard  and  fast,  be- 
fore they  told  Oliver,  and  Mr.  Marsh  quite  declined  to 
reconsider  the  matter.  But  the  thing  that  I  know  Cal- 
vert really  minds,  is  that  letter  of  mine  that  Oliver  has 
got."  Here  the  tears  again  began  to  flow. 

Astrid  looked  hard  at  the  weeping  child,  for  she 
seemed  no  more.  There  was  compassion  mixed  with 
the  contempt  of  the  full  glance. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"  What  in  the  world  made  you  write  to  him  ?  What 
could  you  hope  or  expect  to  accomplish,  except  to  make 
him  unhappy  ?  "  she  asked  curiously. 

Vivien  looked  blankly  up  at  her,  with  great  blue  eyes, 
upon  whose  fringes  the  tears  hung  yet.  "I  —  I  was 
feeling  so  —  so  home-sick !  "  she  gulped. 

"  I  don't  understand.  Surely  you  love  Mr.  Eailton  ? 
I  mean,  you  prefer  him  to  Oliver  ?  You  actually  threw 
Oliver  over  for  him,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did.  And  I  am  sure,  if  I  ask  myself,  I  don't 
know  which  of  them  I  like  best.  You  see,  I'm  afraid  of 
Calvert,  and  Oliver  was  afraid  of  me.  That  was  the 
difference.  But  I  did  love  Oliver,  and  what  was  worse, 
I  knew  I  had  treated  him  badly:  and  marriage  is  a  — 
a  very  alarming  thing,  you  know,  when  you  are  a  little 
afraid  of  the  man  you  have  married ;  and  just  at  first, 
after  the  thing  was  done  and  everything  was  for-ever- 
and-ever-amen  —  you  know  —  somehow,  I  felt  as  if  I 
couldn't  bear  it!  I  wanted  Oliver  to  comfort  me,  to 
say  he  forgave  me,  to  tell  me  he  was  not  unhappy  — 
Oh,  I  don't  exactly  know  what  I  wanted!  But  I  can 
tell  you  what  I  did !  I  was  fool  enough  to  ask  him  to 
write  to  me  at  the  post  office,  and  to  come  down  and 
see  me  while  Calvert  was  away!  Of  course,  I  had  no 
idea  that  the  business  upon  which  Calvert  went  to  Lon- 
don had  any  connection  with  him,  or  that  they  could 
possibly  meet !  " 

"  I  see.  Have  you  told  your  husband  what  was  in 
the  letter  ? " 

Silence. 

"  Did  he  ask  you  ?  " 

Still  silence.  Looking  down,  Astrid  saw  the  delicate 
Dresden  china  face  flushed  crimson. 

"  I  told  him  a  fib,"  said  Vivien  at  last.     "  I  told  him 


228      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

that  I  had  written  merely  to  reprove  Oliver  for  coming 
after  me  when  I  was  married."  She  spoke  recklessly. 

"  And  now  I  suppose  you  are  afraid  he  may  find  out 
that  it  was  not  true  ? " 

"  Well,  he  has,  partly.  I  had  a  maid  called  Therese. 
It  was  she  who  suggested  the  post  office,  and  that  I 
should  tell  him  to  send  his  letters  there.  Of  course,  I 
see  now  why  she  did  it  —  it  was  to  .get  me  in  her  power, 
so  that  I  should  have  to  give  her  money,  for  her  not  to 
tell  Calvert.  It  appears  that  Oliver,  when  he  gave  his 
letter  to  Calvert,  gave  him  a  hint  that  she  was  not  to 
be  trusted,  and  she  was  packed  off  that  very  night.  But 
what  I  want  you  to  do  is  to  get  Oliver  to  burn  the  letter. 
If  he  doesn't,  I  know  Calvert  will  never  rest  until  he 
gets  it." 

"  I  hardly  know  why  Oliver  should  wish  to  keep  it," 
observed  Astrid. 

"  You  may  tell  him  for  me,  that  if  it  is  in  existence, 
Calvert  will  have  it  somehow,"  remarked  Vivien.  "  You 
do  not  know  what  things  these  millionaires  do.  They 
are  always  being  blackmailed,  you  know,  and  they  have 
private  detectives,  and  ways  of  doing  things  —  if  you 
only  have  money  enough,  you  can  get  simply  anything 
done!  Calvert  says  it  makes  him  laugh  sometimes,  to 
hear  people  say,  l  Oh,  what  nonsense !  Such  things 
can't  be  —  we  live  in  the  twentieth  century ! '  He  says 
you  can  do  things  now  that  no  feudal  baron  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages  would  have  dared  attempt.  Something  will 
happen  to  Oliver.  He  will  have  his  pocket  picked,  or 
something  of  that  kind.  There  will  be  no  suggestion, 
of  course,  of  Calvert  having  anything  to  do  with  it. 
Then,  if  the  letter  is  not  in  his  pocket,  there  will  be  a 
burglary.  Somehow,  the  thing  will  be  done.  I  wish 
you  would  ask  him  to  burn  it." 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

Astrid  sat  contemplating  the  little  creature  who  had 
spoilt  Oliver's  life.  She  hardly  knew  whether  to  laugh 
or  cry.  To  her  sound  sense  and  clear  mind,  Vivien's 
lack  of  principle  and  confusion  of  thought  was  hardly 
credible.  She  realised  to  the  full  what  his  mother  had 
meant  when  she  said  how  unfit  a  wife  Vivien  was  for 
Oliver.  She  even  believed  that  all  his  present  suffering 
was  nothing  compared  to  what  he  might  have  suffered, 
had  he  found  himself  in  the  position  which  was  now  oc- 
cupied by  the  American,  a  man  far  better  fitted  to  cope 
with  it. 

"  O,  don't  be  so  severely  silent,"  entreated  Vivien, 
after  a  long  pause.  "  You  don't  know  how  wretched  I 
feel  about  Oliver  and  you!  One  thing  on  the  top  of 
another!  It  always  seems  to  happen  so!  But  when 
I  heard  from  mamma  last  night,  about  Mrs.  Brendon 
being  about  to  marry  Colonel  Waring  at  once,  I  felt 

nothing  but Oh   dear !     Another  blow   for   poor 

Oliver!" 

For  a  moment  Astrid  had  much  ado  not  to  cry  out  in 
her  surprise.  She  knew  all  now!  All  the  ill  news 
which  was  to  have  been  kept  from  her  —  which  Oliver 
would  so  carefully  have  "  broken" —  had  been,  as  it  were, 
flung  at  her,  by  the  hand  of  the  silly  little  flirt  to  whom 
she  owed  her  present  luckless  state. 

With  a  great  effort  the  shock  was  surmounted,  and 
Sybil's  daughter-in-law  realised  that  she  must  pretend  to 
have  been  fully  aware  of  this  piece  of  intelligence. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  quietly,  "  it  does  sometimes  seem  as 
if  everything  comes  at  once." 

"  How  wonderful  you  are,  to  sit  there  so  patient !  " 
cried  Vivien.  "  In  your  place  I  should  want  to  be  tear- 
ing Calvert's  eyes  out !  " 

Astrid   hesitated,   then   took   a   decision,    and  spoke 


230     A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

boldly :  "  In  my  opinion,  your  husband  has  done  a 
mean  act,  unworthy  of  a  gentleman.  I  have  noticed  that 
such  acts  bring  their  own  punishment.  There  is  no 
need  for  people  to  interfere.  Unless  he  is  a  bad  man, 
which  I  don't  think,  he  is  already  suffering  a  good  deal 
in  his  conscience." 

"  I  believe  he  is,"  said  Vivien  dolefully.  "  He  is 
quite  grumpy  and  preoccupied,  not  a  bit  like  he  used  to 
be  in  Egypt." 

"  Well,"  added  Astrid,  with  a  sudden  sigh,  "  I  believe 
he  will  be  much  sorrier  before  he  has  done  with  this 
business.  He  will  live  to  wish  he  had  never  touched  it." 
There  was  a  light  of  purpose  in  her  eye. 

"  Oh,"  said  Vivien,  after  a  while,  "  you  don't  know 
what  a  relief  it  has  been  to  talk  to  you  —  to  have  some- 
body to  whom  to  pour  it  all  out !  I  do  hope  you  won't 
think  too  hardly  of  me,  and  will  tell  Oliver  how  des- 
perately sorry  I  am  about  it  all :  and  do  ask  him  to  burn 
the  letter,  won't  you  ?  And  write  to  me  to  tell  me  that 
he  has  done  it  ? " 

Astrid  could  make  no  such  promise.  She  was  now 
chiefly  occupied  with  the  desire  to  get  her  visitor  away 
before  the  return  of  the  campers-out.  Fortunately,  she 
found  Vivien  quite  as  reluctant  to  meet  the  Selbys  as 
she  herself  could  be  that  the  meeting  should  take  place. 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  Railton  fully  understood  who  were 
the  other  campers-out,  and  that  their  return  was  im- 
minent, she  almost  ran  back  to  her  waiting  chariot,  and 
directed  the  chauffeur  to  take  a  different  road  back  to 
Dormouth. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

All  was  lost  then?    No!  a  cricket  — 

Some  mad  thing  that  left  its  thicket 

For  mere  love  of  music  —  flew 

With  its  little  heart  on  fire, 

Lighted  on  the  crippled  lyre  .... 

Saves  the  singer  from  defeat 

With  her  chirrup,  low  and  sweet. 

Did  the  conqueror  spurn  the  creature 

Once  its  service  done?  —  ROBERT  BBOWIONO. 

NOT  a  word  of  her  visitor  nor  of  her  visitor's  electrical 
tidings  did  Astrid  say  to  her  companions  upon  their  re- 
turn. 

Dan,  closely  observing  as  usual,  gathered  that  there 
was  a  change  in  her  spirits  since  the  morning,  though  he 
was  not  convinced  that  it  was  for  the  better. 

She  was  more  talkative  and  seemed  full  of  energy; 
but  she  had  silent  periods,  during  which  her  broodings 
were  certainly  serious,  if  not  sad. 

The  afternoon  was  marked  by  the  arrival  of  Hum- 
phrey Spence  and  Martin  Selby.  The  whole  party 
motored  down  to  the  shore,  where  all  but  Astrid  had  a 
swim,  and  the  evening  passed  with  lively  talk  and  a  good 
deal  of  gaiety. 

On  Sunday,  Astrid  asked  Humphrey  whether  he 
would  motor  her,  after  lunch,  to  call  upon  Mr.  Wolfe,  in 
order  to  thank  him  for  his  diligent  inquiries,  and  to 
show  him  that  her  recovery  was  complete. 

Humphrey  was  delighted,  for  the  road  thither  was 
charmingly  pretty,  and  Tessa  and  he  could  roam  to- 
gether while  Astrid  made  her  visit. 

231 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

They  left  the  camp  accordingly,  soon  after  lunch,  and 
an  hour's  run  brought  them  to  Wellholme,  as  the  place 
was  called. 

It  was  a  moderately  good  house,  of  the  late  Georgian 
period,  with  most  of  the  attributes  considered  necessary 
in  the  days  of  Jane  Austen.  There  was  a  shrubbery,  a 
sweep,  a  wide  prospect,  and  a  gravel  terrace,  where  pre- 
sumably the  ladies  of  the  family  might  have  walked  in 
their  sandal  shoes  without  fear  of  wet. 

Inside,  the  whole  place  spoke  of  the  same  date.  Mr. 
Wolfe  was  an  only  son,  a  man  who  had  never  been 
either  handsome  or  attractive,  the  child  of  elderly  par- 
ents, brought  up  at  home,  never  sent  to  a  public  school 
or  university,  with  all  the  love  of  seclusion  and  dislike 
of  society,  which  such  a  rearing  will  induce  in  a  man  by 
nature  without  self-confidence  or  social  graces. 

He  had  been  the  catch  of  the  county  all  his  life  with- 
out suspecting  it.  The  sole  alteration  he  had  ever  made 
in  his  peaceful,  out-of-date  habits  was  the  purchase  of 
that  motor  which  had  been  the  means  of  introducing  him 
to  Astrid. 

Upon  his  car,  his  garage,  and  his  chauffeur  he  spent 
considerable  sums.  His  only  other  expensive  hobby  was 
literature.  Early  in  their  acquaintance,  therefore,  Mrs. 
Brendon  and  he  had  found  themselves  on  common 
ground.  The  man  who  was  far  too  shy  ever  to  open  his 
lips  to  the  county  girls  he  met,  could  talk  eloquently  to 
the  pleasing  young  married  woman  who  had  the  literary 
gossip  of  London  at  her  finger-ends. 

At  sixty-five  the  old  bachelor  was  interested  in  a 
woman  for  the  first  time  in  his  life. 

She  had  heard  some  of  his  long-hidden  ambitions,  his 
unfulfilled  plans  —  nothing  but  plans,  because  he  had 
never  chanced  to  come  across  any  one  who  could  influ- 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     233 

ence  him  sufficiently  to  enable  him  to  realise  them.  Dur- 
ing a  long  motor  drive,  he  had  said  that  he  hoped  this 
was  but  the  beginning  of  their  acquaintance.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Brendon  must  do  him  the  honour  of  being  his 
guests  in  the  near  future.  He  had  always  feared  that 
he  had  nothing  wherewith  to  amuse  a  young  woman. 
But  the  motor  and  the  library  together  —  hey  ?  Astrid 
had  assured  him  of  her  perfect  content  with  such  a  com- 
bination. 

She  heard  now  that  Mr.  Wolfe  was  at  home,  with  a 
new  trepidation  in  her  heart.  She  walked,  at  the 
elderly  butler's  subdued  invitation,  into  the  faded,  rose- 
wood-furnished drawing-room,  with  lips  set  in  firm  re- 
solve. 

In  her  prettiest  summer  frock  she  stood  in  the  sun- 
shine in  the  big  bay  window  with  its  maplewood  pan- 
ellings, and  gazed  across  the  lawns  with  eyes  that  saw 
nothing  outwardly. 

Mr.  Wolfe  appeared,  to  welcome  her  with  sincere 
pleasure.  His  ugly  face  was  quite  pink  with  the  satis- 
faction it  gave  him  to  see  her  so  completely  restored. 
He  suggested  that  they  should  go  into  the  library,  and 
she  accepted  with  alacrity,  for  this  was  the  one  habita- 
ble room  in  the  house. 

As  soon  as  they  were  seated  she  turned  to  him  and, 
waiting  till  he  had  exhausted  his  very  limited  flow  of 
polite  chat,  she  spoke. 

"  Mr.  Wolfe,  I  am  going  to  risk  your  good  opinion  of 
me,"  she  said,  looking  him  steadily  in  the  eyes,  "  by  do- 
ing something  which  is  quite  unwarranted  by  the  short- 
ness of  our  acquaintance.  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to 
talk  business  with  me." 

He  could  only  just  stammer  his  pleasure  in  the  idea 
of  serving  her.  He  was  evidently  much  surprised. 


234      A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"  I  am  not  going  to  ask  a  favour  of  you,"  said  she 
steadily.  "  Please  bear  that  in  mind.  I  am  going  to 
make  a  business  proposal,  and  you  must  not  answer  it 
to-day,  you  must  give  me  neither  yes  nor  no,  but  think 
it  over  quietly." 

"  You  interest  me,  Mrs.  Brendon,"  said  Mr.  Wolfe. 
"  Pray  proceed." 

He  was  no  fool,  in  spite  of  his  secluded  life.  His 
little  eyes  were  much  on  the  alert  as  he  looked  at  his 
visitor,  and  acknowledged  to  himself  that  he  was  not  un- 
susceptible to  the  charm  of  her  liquid  dark  eyes  under 
the  brim  of  her  rose-trimmed  hat. 

"  Yesterday,"  she  went  on,  in  her  usual  clear,  rather 
cold  tones,  "  I  had  a  great  shock.  I  heard  bad  news. 
You  too  will  call  it  bad  news,  for  I  know  how  highly 
you  think  of  my  husband  as  an  editor.  The  Penman 
has  changed  hands,  and  my  husband  has  been  forced  to 
resign  his  post." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  so !  This  is  indeed  bad 
news !  Had  he  no  idea  of  it  ? " 

"  None.  The  proprietor  acted  behind  his  back,  be- 
cause he  knew  how  much  Oliver  would  disapprove.  He 
has  sold  the  paper  to  an  American." 

Mr.  Wolfe  stared.     "  An  American  ?  " 

"  Yes.  My  husband  felt  that  the  tone  of  the  paper 
must  necessarily  be  changed,  and  resigned  at  once.  I 
understand  that  the  new  owner  is  going  to  put  in  an 
editor  from  New  York.  Now,  can  you  not  foresee  what 
will  happen  ? " 

"  Only  that  I  shall  discontinue  my  subscription  to 
the  paper !  " 

"  Precisely !  Will  not  other  readers  also  ?  It  is  im- 
possible that  the  Penman,  with  an  American  editor,  can 
retain  its  present  public.  It  will  be  dead  within  a  year. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     235 

Now  do  you  see  my  idea  ?  Do  you  remember  the  talk 
we  had,  about  it  being  the  dream  of  your  life  to  start 
a  paper  ? " 

He  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  her  keenly. 

"  Suppose  my  husband  were  to  come  forward  and 
perhaps  offer  to  edit  for  the  first  year  without  a  salary  ? 
You  would  want  patience,  mind  you.  You  would  have 
to  put  in  money  enough  to  enable  you  to  hold  on.  It 
might  be  two  years,  it  might  be  more,  before  you  began 
to  make  a  profit.  But  there  it  is.  Oliver  has  the  reins 
in  his  hands,  he  could  retain  for  you  the  services  of 
most  of  his  own  men.  They  will  all  be  glad  to  come  to 
him,  for  though  I  expect  Mr.  Railton  will  offer  high 
pay,  he  will  not  b©  likely  to  sign  contracts;  and  that 
is  the  very  thing  that  I  would  advise  you  to  do.  Have 
contracts  for  three  years,  get  your  men  in  good  heart, 
prepared  to  make  a  fight  for  it.  I  believe  that  within 
the  first  year  you  would  have  captured  the  Penman 
public." 

She  could  see  that  the  imagination  of  her  host  was 
blazing.  He  sat  looking  at  her  with  kindled  eye. 
"  What  an  idea !  "  he  said  slowly,  "  what  a  great  idea !  " 

She  leaned  forward.  "  I  had  no  idea  of  this  terrible 
thing  until  yesterday.  Nothing  was  further  from  my 
mind  than  the  bare  possibility  of  my  making  such  an 
appeal  to  you!  You  know  next  to  nothing  of  me,  or 
of  my  husband,  except  his  work,  which  you  admire. 
You  would  have  to  go  into  things,  to  find  out  all  about 
us,  to  ascertain  what  Mr.  Brendon  would  be  prepared 
to  put  into  such  a  scheme,  and  so  on.  But  I  felt  as  if 
I  had  to  come  and  say  it.  There  is  my  husband,  a  first- 
rate  man !  Here  are  you,  longing  to  have  an  organ  of 
your  own,  and  with  the  capital  to  back  it !  You  would 
have  an  editor  who  knows,  all  there  is  to  know  about 


236      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

printing,  paper,  advertisements,  distribution,  all  the 
thousand  and  one  things  that  one  must  know  in  order  to 
run  a  paper  at  a  profit.  I  felt  that,  even  at  the  risk  of 
your  looking  upon  me  as  a  scheming  woman,  I  had  to 
put  the  thing  before  you !  " 


CHAPTER  XXII 

We  talked  on  fast,  while  every  common  word 
Seemed  tangled  with  the  thunder,  at  one  end, 
And  ready  to  pull  down  upon  our  heads 

A  terror  out  of  sight. —  E.  B.  BROWNING. 

ME.  WOLFE  asked  nothing  better  than  to  have  the 
thing  put  before  him  in  all  its  bearings.  He  found 
that  Mrs.  Brendon  knew  almost  as  much  of  the  working 
of  a  paper  as  did  her  husband.  Her  knowledge  sur- 
prised him  as  much  as  it  excited  his  admiration.  They 
talked  on,  not  heeding  the  time,  until  the  motor  appeared 
at  the  front  door,  and  Tessa  meekly  begged  to  know 
how  much  longer  Mrs.  Brendon  was  likely  to  be. 

It  was  almost  eight  o'clock  by  the  time  they  reached 
the  camp.  The  sun  was  very  near  its  setting,  the  light 
upon  the  moor  was  flushed  with  rose.  The  dazzle  of 
the  sunset  and  the  fact  that  she  was  sitting  behind  in 
the  car,  with  Tessa  and  Humphrey  in  front,  impeded 
Astrid's  view.  She  did  not  see  that  beside  Martin  and 
Dan,  who  were  standing  in  the  road  on  the  look  out, 
there  was  a  third  male  figure,  upon  whose  face  relief 
succeeded  anxiety  as  the  hoot  of  the  horn  was  heard. 

She  had  no  warning,  nothing  to  break  the  shock  of 
seeing  Oliver  step  forward  and  open  the  door  for  her  to 
alight. 

The  sudden  sight  of  him  demolished  for  a  moment 
even  her  fortitude.  It  seemed  impossible  that  she  could 
conceal  the  disorder  into  which  she  was  thrown.  Her 

237 


238     A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

voice  shook  so  that  she  dared  say  no  more  than  "  Oh ! 
.  .  .  You  were  able  to  get  away  .  .  .  after  all !  " 

She  had  risen,  and  would  have  alighted  but  that  he 
stood  there,  looking  at  her  with  eyes  of  apprehensive 
caution,  as  if  he  dreaded  what  she  might  say  or  do. 

"  Don't  you  want  me  to  lift  you  out  ?  "  he  asked,  cov- 
ering his  nervousness  with  a  smile. 

"  Oh  no,  no !  "  she  earnestly  assured  him.  "  I  am 
quite  well,  I  don't  want  any  help." 

He  stood  back  as  though  snubbed,  and  watched  her 
step  down.  "  That  seems  all  right,"  he  remarked,  try- 
ing for  cheerfulness.  He  took  from  her  the  warm  cloak 
she  wore,  and  as  he  did  so,  became  conscious  of  the  agi- 
tation which  thrilled  her.  He  told  himself  he  was  a 
selfish  brute  to  expose  her  even  to  the  disturbance  which 
his  unexpected  presence  caused  her. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Brendon,  what  do  you  think  of  her  ? " 
cried  Tessa,  coming  to  greet  him  with  a  smile  and  a  ro- 
bust hand-shake. 

"  You  are  wonderful  —  you,  or  the  doctor,  or  the 
moorland  air,  or  all  three,"  he  answered,  with  real  grati- 
tude. 

"  And  where  do  I  come  in  ?  "  asked  Dan  petulantly. 

It  seemed  to  him  ages  since  the  motor  had  rolled  off, 
carrying  Astrid  away  for  hours.  Now  she  was  back, 
and  here  was  this  unwelcome  husband,  come  to  spoil 
the  exquisite  evening  hour,  when  Dan  had  hoped  for 
a  quiet  talk.  Why  couldn't  the  man  keep  to  his  word  ? 
He  had  said  he  was  not  coming,  and  must  needs  drop 
in  unexpectedly,  just  when  one  felt  safe  from  him. 
-"Where  do  I  come  in?"  asked  Dan.  "I  have  been 
contributing  what  little  I  could  towards  the  convales- 
cence." 

"  He  has  been  doing  my  washing-up  for  me,"  ac- 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     239 

knowledged  Astrid  gratefully,  "and  beating  up  milk 
and  eggs,  and  I  can't  tell  you  what  beside.  They  are 
both  as  good  as  they  can  be  to  the  orphan  within  their 
gates." 

"Supper  before  anything,"  cried  Martin.  "Dan 
and  I  have  been  obliged  to  turn  our  backs  in  order  to 
resist  the  temptation  of  f  alling-to  upon  the  lobster  salad. 
As  for  Brendon,  I  understand  he  has  had  no  meals  since 
the  day  before  yesterday,  and  is  in  a  state  of  semi-col- 
lapse from  hunger." 

"  0,  I  am  so  sorry,  it  is  all  my  fault  that  we  are  so 
late,"  cried  Astrid,  hurrying  forward. 

"  You  can  walk !  "  said  Oliver's  voice  in  her  ear,  with 
an  accent  of  satisfaction. 

"Walk,  indeed!  I  can  run!"  she  retorted,  suiting 
the  action  to  the  word,  and  darting  away  from  him  into 
the  caravan,  whither  Tessa  had  retired  to  pass  a  comb 
through  her  wind-ruffled  locks. 

He  could  not  make  out  whether  the  little  break  in 
her  voice  were  a  laugh  or  a  sob. 

A  few  minutes  later  they  were  all  together  round  the 
table,  doing  justice  to  the  supper,  with  the  exception 
of  Astrid,  who  could  never  eat  when  excited.  Only 
when  she  saw  that  her  lack  of  appetite  was  drawing 
upon  her  the  attention  of  Oliver  did  she  make  a  great 
effort,  and  swallow  food  which  threatened  to  choke 
her.  She  already  knew  all  that  he  had  come  to  tell  her. 
It  was  a  piquant  thought. 

She  only  dared  watch  him  by  moments,  when  his  at- 
tention was  diverted :  for  his  own  eyes  were  continually 
upon  her.  She  felt  for  him.  How  awful  to  have  to 
come  and  confess  reverse  of  fortune  to  the  woman  whom 
you  do  not  love,  and  whom  you  more  than  suspect  of 
Jiaving  married  you  for  your  position  J 


240      A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

She  appreciated  the  effort  that  his  coming  must  have 
been.  There  was  encouragement  in  the  knowledge  that 
she  could  make  things  easier  for  him. 

Then,  in  the  buzz  of  general  conversation,  she  heard 
him  saving  to  Tessa,  who  sat  next  him,  that  he  must 
leave  early  next  morning. 

Well,  what  had  she  expected?  He  had  come  down, 
as  naturally  he  would,  at  the  latest  moment,  so  as  to 
have  as  few  unpleasant  quarters  of  an  hour  as  need  be. 

Supper  over,  he  begged  them  to  excuse  his  wife  from 
her  share  in  clearing  away  as  he  wanted  to  have  a  talk 
with  her  —  there  would  be  no  time  to-morrow  morn- 
ing. 

Tessa  wrapped  up  Astrid,  though  the  night  was  beau- 
tifully warm ;  and  together  the  husband  and  wife  strolled 
away,  out  of  sight  of  the  camp,  into  the  long  twilight  of 
approaching  midsummer. 

At  last  they  were  quite  alone.  They  stood  among  the 
clumps  of  gorse,  their  feet  half  buried  in  the  flowering 
thrift,  while  the  aroma  of  hawthorn  bloom  was  carried 
to  their  senses  by  the  little,  wandering  breeze.  Oliver 
stopped  when  they  came  to  a  suitable  nook ;  and  they  sat 
down  side  by  side. 

She  was  not  trembling  now.  She  had  braced  herself, 
and  was  prepared.  Her  quiet  seemed  to  relieve  him  of 
some  of  his  apprehension. 

"  Astrid,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  The 
doctor  told  me  last  week  that  you  must  on  no  account  be 
distressed  or  disturbed.  And  I  have  decided  that  I 
must  do  both.  The  reasons  I  gave  you  for  not  coming 
on  Friday  as  I  hoped  to  do  were  not  true.  I  stayed 
away  because  I  hoped  to  spare  you  bad  news.  But  I 
have  decided  that  I  must  tell  you  because  there  is  no- 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     241 

body  else  who  can.  I  —  I  —  you  don't  know  how  I 
hate  having  to  do  it." 

She  sat  with  lowered  eyes,  but  presently  ventured  a 
look  at  him.  He  had  his  head  turned  from  her,  and 
was  picking  bits  of  thrift  and  making  a  little  bunch 
of  it. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  Oliver,  I  am  quite  well,  and  able 
to  take  things  as  they  come,"  she  told  him  gently.  "  If 
there  is  bad  news  I  would  rather  hear  it  from  you." 

"  Well,  you  see,  it  is  not  wholly  bad  now,"  he  re- 
joined. "  There  is  some  good  to  add,  so  I  don't  so  much 
mind.  But  it  will  be  a  bit  of  a  shock  to  you  at  first, 
I  know.  It  is,  shortly,  that  I  have  lost  the  Penman." 

There  was  a  perceptible  pause.  "Well,"  said  she 
softly,  at  last,  "  the  only  thing  that  I  should  really  mind 
about  that,  would  be  that  you  had  lost  it  through  your 
own  fault,  and  I  don't  think  that  is  likely." 

"You  don't?" 

"  No." 

He  stared  at  the  ground  between  his  stockinged  legs. 
"  In  a  way  it  was  my  own  fault,"  he  said  slowly.  "  No. 
I  don't  think  I  can  say  it  was.  Calvert  Railton,  having 
injured  me,  chose  to  consider  himself  my  enemy.  He 
bought  the  paper  in  order  to  turn  me  out." 

"  I'm  not  quite  unprepared  for  this,  Oliver.  Last 
week  you  remember  you  told  me  you  thought  Marsh  had 
something  on  his  mind." 

"  Ah !  So  I  did.  But  do  you  realise  what  it  means  ? 
It  means  that  I  am  entirely  dependent  upon  my  mother, 
except  for  savings  of  my  own,  which  are  not  very  con- 
siderable." 

"  It  means  that  you  and  I  must  earn  each  our  own 
living,"  she  replied  tranquilly.  "  That  does  not  sound 


242     A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

nearly  as  bad  to  me  as  I  suppose  it  does  to  you.  It  is 
what  I  have  always  had  to  face." 

"  It  is  just  the  one  thing  I  had  hoped  you  might  not 
have  to  suffer  as  my  wife,"  he  replied,  in  a  very  low 
voice,  which  somehow  expressed  the  depth  of  shame  he 
felt. 

She  had  no  answer  to  that.  Sitting  upright,  she 
lifted  her  eyes  to  the  wonderful  tender  depth  of  the 
slowly  darkening  sky.  Oh,  if  only  she  were  not  his 
wife!  If  she  were  just  his  servant,  his  faithful  secre- 
tary !  The  bitterness  went  out  of  her  like  swiftly  flow- 
ing water  as  she  realised  that  he  was  suffering.  Her 
heart  swelled,  but  she  sat  on  calmly.  She  must  not  let 
him  think  that  she  was  moved. 

"  Do  you  feel  as  if  you  could  tell  me  all  about  it  ? " 
she  asked  after  a  while. 

He  told  her  then.  He  made  a  clean  breast  of  his 
having  seen  the  Railtons  at  Dormouth  on  the  previous 
Saturday. 

"  I  didn't  tell  you  I  had  seen  them,"  he  explained, 
"  for  the  reason  that  I  don't  think  it  affected  me  very 
profoundly.  I  looked  on  it  as  an  awkward  accident. 
I  was  anxious  about  you ;  and  in  my  mind,  the  fact  of 
Vivien's  marriage  was  —  well,  it  was  final  as  far  as  I 
was  concerned.  But,  of  course,  when  I  got  her  letter, 
I  saw  how  likely  it  was  that  she  should  have  supposed  I 
had  come  to  the  place  with  the  object  of  seeing  her. 
I  thought  it  right  to  disabuse  her  of  any  such  idea,  at 
once  and  completely." 

He  gave  her,  then,  a  detailed  account  of  the  scene  be- 
tween himself  and  Railton  at  the  office.  He  went  on  to 
describe  how  he  had  thought  of  hastening  to  tell  her  all, 
there  and  then,  until  he  remembered  that  he  must  do 
nothing  to  hinder  her  recovery :  how  he  had  gone  down 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     243 

to  Thackridge  to  see  his  mother ;  and  how  he  found  him- 
self supplanted. 

He  spoke,  as  he  went  on,  more  naturally,  more  as  he 
had  been  wont  to  do  when  she  was  his  right-hand  man,  as 
he  used  to  say.  Her  knowledge  of  the  ins  and  outs  of 
his  profession,  her  capacity  to  understand  just  how  he 
felt,  and  why,  were  infinitely  soothing. 

He  avowed  frankly  that  he  had  not  dared  to  face  her 
with  such  a  load  upon  his  mind,  for  fear  the  temptation 
to  relieve  himself  by  confiding  in  her  should  be  too 
great. 

She  assured  him  that  she  was  not  so  weak-minded  as 
to  be  overcome  by  tidings  of  disaster.  "  I  have  no  fears 
for  your  future,"  she  said  quietly.  "  You  are  known, 
your  work  is  known,  and  held  very  high.  As  soon  as 
this  gets  about  —  as  soon  as  it  is  matter  of  common 
knowledge  that  the  Penman  has  changed  hands  —  you 
will  find  that  there  are  people  eager  to  secure  you.  I 
feel  quite  sure  that  it  will  be  so." 

He  listened  with  pleasure.  Her  belief  in  him  was 
gratifying.  Little  as  she  had  cause  to  trust  him  as  a 
man,  she  had  not  lost  her  confidence  in  his  professional 
ability. 

"  Ah,"  he  said,  "  if  you  had  been,  as  I  have  been, 
scouring  about  in  editors'  rooms  for  a  job,  for  the  last 
few  days,  you  might  be  less  sanguine.  However,  as  I 
told  you,  the  news  is  not  all  bad.  •  I  don't  think  I  could 
have  borne  to  come  down  and  tell  you  if  it  had  been. 
But  as  things  are,  I  felt  I  had  to  come.  I've  got  a  job, 
of  a  kind." 

She  started.     "  You  have  ?  " 

"  Not  permanent ;  but  just  a  bit  of  luck.  I  went  to 
the  Sentinel  —  you  know  Cray  has  always  been  rather 
a  friend  of  mine  5  and  the  man  who  was  going  to  the. 


244      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

front  for  them,  as  war  correspondent,  has  just  fallen  ill 
with  appendicitis.  I  have  got  his  job,  and  am  off  to- 
morrow evening  for  Tripoli." 

She  locked  her  hands  together.  In  the  fast-deepen- 
ing dusk  he  could  not  see  the  whiteness  of  her  face.  A 
tide  of  feeling  which  it  seemed  impossible  to  fight 
stormed  at  her  heart.  Her  eyes  grew  dim. 

"  If  we  had  a  war  of  our  own  going  on,"  he  went  on, 
gazing  out  to  sea,  his  chin  on  his  hand,  "  it  would  have 
been  easy.  I  should  have  made  my  will  and  enlisted. 
There  would  have  been  a  chance  of  freedom  for  you 
then."  He  turned  with  a  start.  Surely  he  had  heard 
her  sob.  His  eyes  eagerly  sought  the  face  he  could 
only  see  as  a  shadow  —  he  made  a  movement  towards 
her  which  he  could  not  himself  explain.  "  What's  the 
matter  ?  "  he  blurted  out,  in  a  voice  tense  with  anxiety. 
If  only  he  knew  what  to  do  for  the  best,  how  to  save  her 
pain! 

There  was  but  a  slight  pause  before  she  answered  ex- 
ultantly :  "  There  now !  And  you  said  it  would  be 

so  hard  to  find  work !  I  knew  better !  But "  she 

hesitated.  It  was  not  in  her  power  to  tell  him  of  Mr. 
Wolfe's  designs.  She  had  begged  that  good  friend  not 
to  let  Oliver  know  that  the  proposal  had  been  her  own 
suggestion.  Mr.  Wolfe,  ostensibly,  had  not  made  up 
his  mind.  When  he  had  done  so,  and  when  the  fact  of 
Oliver's  severance  from  the  Penman  was  publicly 
known,  he  intended  to  come  forward.  But  until  his 
offer  had  been  formulated  it  remained  indefinite. 

"  But  ?  What  is  in  your  mind  ? "  asked  Oliver 
gently. 

"  Does  it  n<5t  seem  precipitate  ?  Are  you  not  clutch- 
ing at  the  first  thing  that  offers,  without  any  real  neces- 
sity? You  could  afford,  could  you  not,  to  wait  for 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      245 

work  which  is  worthy  of  you.     May  you  not  miss  some- 
thing, perhaps  ...  by  being  out  of  the  way  ?  " 

He  drew  a  deep  breath.  "  Perhaps.  There  are  two 
reasons.  One  was  that  I  was  spared  the  humiliation 
of  coming  to  tell  you  that  I  was  one  of  the  unemployed. 
The  other  was  —  was  —  well,  that  I  suppose  I  am  feel- 
ing restless." 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  as  if  his  words  reproached  her,  "  of 
course !  Of  course !  Forgive  me,"  she  went  on,  speak- 
ing fast,  "  I  should  have  thought  of  that.  I  was  think- 
ing only  of  your  professional  future,  not  of  your  per- 
sonal unhappiness.  Yes,  it  is  right,  it  is  best.  No 
doubt  it  is  the  only  way." 

He  was  puzzled.  She  seemed  quite  collected,  full  of 
common  sense  and  that  power  of  seeing  round  a  subject 
which  he  had  always  admired  in  her.  He  had  been  mis- 
taken, then,  when  he  thought  he  heard  that  smothered 
sob  ?  The  mistake  had  set  going  some  current  of  feel- 
ing which  affected  him  oddly.  Aided  by  her  composure, 
he  left  unsaid  some  words  which  had  rushed  to  his  lips 
—  words  of  regret  and  a  plea  for  forgiveness.  He  must 
on  no  account  upset  or  distress  her.  There  was  much 
to  be  arranged,  and  he  must  keep  the  talk  upon  a  busi- 
ness footing. 

"  The  main  thing  that  you  and  I  must  discuss  to- 
night," he  said,  "  is  your  future  while  I  am  away." 

She  broke  in.  "  You  must  not  trouble  about  me.  I 
shall  manage  very  well." 

He  continued  as  if  she  had  not  spoken.  "  I  went 
down  again  to  Thackridge  yesterday,"  he  said,  "  and 
told  my  mother  everything.  I  felt  less  unable  to  do 
it  because  I  had  not  to  appear  altogether  in  the  light 
of  a  beggar.  We  had  a  long  talk,  and  the  upshot  of  it 
is  that  she  wants  you  at  the  Abbot's  House,  if  you  will 


246      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

come.  She  is  preparing  for  her  marriage,  and  has  no- 
body with  her.  She  said  .  .  .  she  said  she  would 
rather  have  you  than  anybody  in  the  world." 

There  was  a  silence.  Astrid  could  not  have  spoken, 
and  he  was  not  able  immediately  to  proceed. 

"  The  arrangement,"  he  went  on  at  last,  "  is  exactly 
what  I  could  wish.  It  would  have  the  advantage  of 
allowing  you  to  continue  your  secretarial  work,  if  you 
still  desire  it.  The  Colonel  and  my  mother  plan  to 
take  a  long  holiday  after  their  marriage,  and  you  would 
be  left  in  charge  of  the  house  during  their  absence." 

Again  silence.  A  bird  called  from  its  nest  among 
the  bushes.  The  murmur  of  the  sea  rose  to  their  ears, 
very  far  away  and  soft. 

Astrid  had  been  summoning  all  her  fortitude.  If 
anything  definite  was  to  be  said,  this  was  the  moment. 
If  she  weakly  allowed  this  suggestion  to  be  adopted, 
consented  to  the  continuance  of  the  present  position, 
simply  because  she  had  not  courage  to  face  things,  then 
she  would  be  cutting  away  the  ground  from  under  her 
own  feet.  Her  pride  forbade  that  she  should  accept 
anything  more  from  Oliver,  even  though  it  soothed  his 
conscience  to  give  what  he  could. 

"  Don't  you  think,"  she  asked  him  quietly,  "  that  it 
would  be  better  to  accept  this  break,  which  comes  in 
the  natural  order  of  things,  and  —  make  it  final  ?  I 
don't  want  to  say  one  word  in  bitterness,  but  we  have 
to  look  things  in  the  face.  I  know  you  are  sorry  and 
ashamed  of  the  thing  you  did.  But  all  the  blame  was 
not  yours,  your  mother  showed  me  that.  What  hap- 
pened could  not  have  happened  if  I  had  had  a  woman's 
proper  pride.  I  waited  a  month  because  your  mother 
asked  it  of  me.  At  the  end  of  that  month  you  told 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

me  to  go  where  I  liked  and  do  as  I  pleased.     It  is  best 
that  I  should  do  so." 

Before  she  had  got  far  with  this  speech  she  had  real- 
ised that  to  him  it  was  quite  unexpected.  He  turned 
his  face  towards  her  with  a  start  of  hurt  surprise,  and 
gazed  upon  her  as,  somewhat  lamely,  she  faltered  to 
her  conclusion.  "  So  that  is  how  you  feel,"  he  said, 
in  a  low  voice.  "  You  want  your  liberty.  But  you 
understand  that  I  cannot  give  it  to  you  completely  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  understand  that.  No  mistake  that  is  once 
made  can  ever  be  undone.  But  you  would  be  free  of 
the  responsibility  of  me,  of  the  continual  fret  of  my 
presence,  the  —  the  constant  reminder  of  all  that  is  so 
—  very  —  painful  to  you.  You  had  better  let  me  go." 

"  I  can't,"  he  said  sharply,  and  the  words,  as  he 
spoke  them,  were  a  surprise  to  himself.  "  If  you  go, 
it  is  against  my  wish,  without  my  consent." 

"  It  is  quite  a  mistaken  idea  of  duty  and  honour 
that  makes  you  think  you  are  bound  to  keep  me." 

He  was  for  the  moment  at  a  loss.  Uppermost  came 
a  feeling  of  irritation  against  her.  She  seemed  born 
to  make  him  exhibit  his  worst  feelings.  "You  mean 
that  you  won't  go  on  with  the  present  state  of  things! 
Why?  Is  it  so  much  more  unendurable  this  evening 
than  it  has  been  any  time  during  the  past  weeks  ?  " 

"  Yes."  It  was  hardly  audible.  It  was  merely 
breathed. 

Her  voice,  coming  to  him  from  unseen  lips,  sent  a 
thrill  through  him,  and  he  cried  out  like  a  petulant  boy 
—"Why,  Astrid?  Why?" 

Her  two  hands  went  up  to  her  breast  as  she  gasped 
out,  "  Please,  Oliver,  have  pity.  I  can't  put  things 
into  words.  Have  you  no  sort  of  idea  what  my  life 


248      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

has  been  to  me  lately?  I  know  you  have  suffered  too 
—  I  know  your  heart  has  been  filled  with  the  thought 
of  —  of  another  woman's  pain ;  but  just  for  a  minute 
try,"  her  voice  sank  to  a  whisper,  "  try  and  think  of 
me." 

He  made  some  kind  of  a  sound  which  was  really 
sympathy,  but  sounded  like  exasperation.  He  was  des- 
perate because  he  realised  that  he  could  show  her  only 
the  homage  of  respect;  he  could  not  comfort  her.  She 
seemed  so  small,  so  lonely,  sitting  there  on  the  ground, 
he  had  the  impulse  to  snatch  her  to  him,  to  offer  the 
consolation  of  caresses.  But  her  pride  and  strength 
were  about  her  like  a  barrier.  He  dared  not  touch  her. 

"  I  will  think  of  you,"  he  said,  in  an  agitated  voice. 
"  It  shall  be  as  you  decide  —  exactly  as  you  decide. 
Will  you  swear  to  me  that  it  is  your  own  wish  and  de- 
sire to  divide  your  life  finally  from  mine  ?  If  so,  then 
I  go  out.  But  it  must  be  your  own  decree." 

The  moment  was  upon  her.  She  thought  that  she 
detected,  in  his  excitement,  in  his  curious  irritation, 
the  hope  of  freedom,  carefully  held  in  the  background. 
Once  convinced  that  she  desired  to  leave  him,  he  would 
joyfully  accept  the  measure  of  liberty  available  to  him. 
She  summoned  all  her  strength.  Only  a  few  words 
and  it  would  be  over. 

"  I  assure  you  that  I  think  it  best  that  we  should 
part" 

He  sat  a  moment  as  he  was.  Something  in  him 
jumped  like  a  tortured  nerve  as  the  slow  words  fell 
upon  the  silence  of  the  summer  night  "  Very  well. 
We  are  to  part,"  he  said,  with  bitterness.  "  Let  us 
lose  no  time."  He  rose  to  his  feet.  The  moon  was 
just  sailing  into  view  over  the  hill;  and,  holding  his 
watch  to  catch  the  light,  he  could  read  the  dial.  "  If  I 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      249 

hurry,  I  may  catch  the  last  train  to  town  from  the 
Junction,"  he  remarked. 

She  also  rose  to  her  feet,  and  catching  her  hand,  al- 
most roughly,  he  swung  her  round  so  that  the  light  of 
the  moon  fell  upon  her  face.  It  bore  signs  of  agita- 
tion which  cut  him  to  the  heart  "What  a  brute  I 
am !  I  came  down  this  evening,  meaning  to  be  so  care- 
ful of  you,"  he  said  gruffly.  "  You  are  perfectly  right. 
I'm  not  worth  sticking  to.  I  haven't  even  got  money 
now.  If  there  was  anything  I  could  do  to  show  you 
I'm  not  altogether  the  cad  I  have  seemed  to  you !  But 
every  word  I  speak  is  making  things  worse  for  you! 
Do  you  mind  if  I  go  ?  I  shall  just  get  that  train  if  I 
run  —  and  I'm  so  awfully  disappointed.  I  don't  think 
I  had  realised  your  contempt  for  me  —  not  altogether ! 
You  must  do  in  all  things  as  your  judgment  approves. 
I  have  no  claim  .  .  ."  He  was  down  on  his  knees, 
kissing  her  two  hands ;  and  then,  with  a  hurried  "  God 
bless  you !  "  was  gone,  and  she  was  left  alone  in  the 
moonlight,  too  amazed,  too  stupefied  by  his  outburst, 
to  have  the  power  of  articulating  a  single  word  until  it 
was  too  late. 

It  was  not  until  many  hours  afterwards  that  she  re- 
membered her  intention  of  saying  something  to  him 
concerning  Vivien  and  the  letter  which  was  causing 
her  so  much  anxiety. 

She  reflected  that  it  was  perhaps  as  well  that  the 
subject  had  remained  unmentioned.  Oliver  had  most 
probably  destroyed  the  letter,  and  she  did  not  so  much 
as  remember  the  wild  words  spoken  by  Railton's  wife 
of  the  methods  her  husband  might  be  likely  to  employ 
in  order  to  obtain  possession  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

Peace,  peace!  such  a  small  lamp  illumes,  on  this  high  way, 
So  dimly,  so  few  steps  in  front  of  my  feet, — 
Yet  shows  me  that  her  way  is  parted  from  my  way.  .  .  . 
Out  of  sight,  beyond  light,  at  what  goal  may  we  meet? 

D.  G.  ROSSETTI. 

IT  was  a  dull,  heavy  morning,  threatening  thunder, 
when  Oliver's  leisurely  night  train  drifted  into  Water- 
loo. 

He  sighed  wearily  as  he  stepped  out  upon  the  pave- 
ment. All  night  he  had  not  slept  a  wink. 

He  was  telling  himself  how  many  kinds  of  a  fool  he 
was,  to  have  wasted  time  in  going  so  far,  when  he  had 
so  much  to  do  before  his  boat-train  left  for  Southamp- 
ton at  seven-thirty  that  evening. 

Why  had  he  done  it?  That  was  what  he  had  been 
asking  himself  all  night.  He  had  spent  time  and 
money,  neither  of  which  he  could  afford,  to  go  and  say 
good-bye  to  a  woman  who  had  calmly  decided  never  to 
set  eyes  upon  him  again.  His  spirits  were  very  low, 
as  he  drove  to  his  club,  and  even  a  good  bath  and  break- 
fast did  not  accomplish  much  in  the  way  of  cheering 
him. 

There  were  no  letters  for  him,  and  when  he  had 
breakfasted,  he  went  out  to  buy  certain  things  still 
lacking  to  his  kit.  He  had  to  go  and  consult  a  man  he 
knew  who  had  been  in  the  same  sort  of  business,  and 
all  this  took  up  time.  It  was  half-past  two  before  he 

250 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      251 

was  able  to  wend  his  way  to  the  Penman  office,  in  order 
to  pack  and  remove  such  of  his  things  as  were  still 
there. 

Having  ascertained  that  the  new  owner  was  no- 
where on  the  premises  he  went  up,  to  face  a  room  full 
of  exasperated  people,  afraid  to  quarrel  with  their 
bread  and  butter,  but  one  and  all  ripe  for  mutiny. 

"  Why  don't  you  start  a  paper  on  your  own  ? "  was 
their  cry.  "  We  are  all  here,  ready  to  go  on  with  you  I 
Another  week,  and  we  shall  all  be  in  the  street,  you 
bet!  Everybody  has  had  his  salary  raised,  and  no 
contract!  That's  a  sure  sign!  We  shall  all  be  ready 
for  you,  if  you  decide  to  go  ahead." 

The  sub-editor,  in  particular,  was  confident  that, 
with  Oliver  in  charge,  they  could  capture  the  Penman 
public.  It  really  began  to  seem  to  Oliver  a  possible 
development,  should  he  return  from  Tripoli  with  no 
more  definite  prospects  than  he  had  at  present 

Everybody  turned  to  with  a  will,  shovelling  his 
books  into  cases,  packing  his  papers,  and  eagerly  help- 
ful in  all  ways.  While  they  were  busy,  the  hall  por- 
ter looked  in. 

"  Mr.  Brendon  come  ?  Ah,  there  you  are,  sir.  A 
gentleman  has  been  asking  for  you,  sir.  Gave  the 
name  of  Barrymore." 

A  sensation  ran  round  the  room  like  a  flicker  of 
lightning. 

"  Jove !  "  said  young  Prentis,  with  a  smear  of  dust 
across  his  intellectual  brow,  and  a  bundle  of  papers  in 
his  hand.  "  Not  the  Barrymore  ? " 

"  Mr.  Barrymore  of  the  Hermes,  and  the  Birming- 
ham Bulwark,  he  bid  me  say,  sir.  There  was  more, 
but  I  forget  the  rest." 

Sensation.     No    doubt    about    it.     This    was    the 


252      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

Barrymore,  millionaire  and  newspaper  owner.  And 
he  was  inquiring  for  their  late  esteemed  editor! 

"  Gent  asked  me  to  say,  sir,  that  he  will  be  at  this 
address  until  past  five  this  afternoon,  sir.  I  was  to 
give  you  this  card,  too,  with  a  red  mark  on  it,  and  to 
say  that,  if  you  hand  it  to  the  hall  porter  on  entering, 
you  will  be  shown  up  at  once.  He  said,  not  to  ask  for 
him  by  name,  sir,  as  he  is  troubled  with  journalists  to 
a  considerable  extent."  A  shout  of  laughter  greeted 
this  entreaty. 

"  Cheer-o !  Why  not  take  your  crew  behind  you, 
Brendon  ?  "  cried  Prentis.  "  '  Enter  the  Editor  of  the 
Penman  and  Staff ! '  Jove,  what  I  would  give  to  be 
sent  for  by  old  Barrymore,  I  don't  think !  " 

"  I  heard  it  rumoured  at  the  Institute  last  week  that 
Probert  was  going  off  the  B.  B."  put  in  the  sub-editor. 
"  I  wouldn't  mind  betting  he's  going  to  offer  you  that. 
And  though  it's  not  London,  you  have  got  to  recollect 
that  the  B.  B.  leads  the  whole  caboodle  of  provincial 
rags." 

Oliver  stood  holding  the  card,  on  which  was  in- 
scribed in  pencil  —  Room  17,  second  floor,  Golden  Ball 
Hotel,  Strand.  His  heart  leaped  with  ungovernable 
excitement.  He  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  I  shall  just  do  it,  boys.  I  can  dine  on  the  train  all 
right » 

"  Go,  with  our  blessing,"  urged  Prentis.  "  Leave  us 
to  deal  with  this  chaos  and  old  night,  we'll  see  it 
through.  You  get  into  a  taxi  and  shoot  off  to  the  Gol- 
den Ball  forthwith.  Take  time  by  the  fetlock,  as  the 
wise  say." 

"  Will  you  chaps  really  finish  up  for  me  ?  The 
labels  to  be  nailed  on  the  cases  are  all  here,  ready. 
Well,  then,  I'll  say  Good-bye,  and  good  luck  to  you  all 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      253 

till  we  meet  again.  Oh,  by  Jove,  I  was  forgetting  the 
safe!" 

He  went  to  it,  unlocked  it,  and  opened  also  the  inner 
compartment  which  was  his  own.  It  contained  a  dis- 
patch-box, on  the  top  of  which  lay  Vivien's  letter, 
hardly  noticed  by  him  in  his  haste.  More  because  he 
did  not  wish  to  pause  to  unlock  the  box  than  for  any 
other  reason,  he  put  the  letter  in  his  pocket-book,  gave 
the  dispatch-box  to  the  men  to  pack,  and  was  ready  to 
be  off. 

In  the  taxi,  try  as  he  would,  he  could  not  prevent 
his  hopes  from  rising  absurdly.  This  man  Barrymore 
could  make  his  fortune :  and  this  man  had  sent  for  him  ! 
The  enthusiasm  of  his  underlings,  most  of  whom  might 
share  in  any  of  his  good-fortune,  had  sent  him  off  a 
trifle  exalted.  He  found  himself  wondering  what 
Astrid  would  say.  He  pleased  himself  by  picturing 
her  expression  of  eye  and  lip  as  she  received  the  tid- 
ings :  and  chid  himself  for  letting  his  mind  dwell  upon 
her.  He  thought  over  the  various  organs  owned  by 
Barrymore,  and  wondered  which  he  should  prefer.  He 
forgot  that  he  was  hungry  and  tired,  that  he  was  on  the 
eve  of  an  expedition  which  would  tax  his  fortitude  and 
somewhat  humble  his  pride  —  that  he  had  bade  a  sad 
farewell  to  his  mother,  and  a  final  one,  so  she  willed  it, 
to  his  wife.  He  was  upheld  by  the  glow  of  hope  which 
illumined  the  future.  If  Barrymore  had  a  definite 
offer  to  make,  there  were  at  least  two  good  men  in  his 
own  office  who  would  take  on  his  present  job  for  him. 

The  traffic  in  Fleet  Street  and  the  Strand  was  thick, 
but  in  a  few  minutes  he  was  at  his  destination,  had 
handed  in  the  mysterious  card,  and  was  at  once  ushered 
by  a  boy  in  livery,  whom  the  porter  summoned,  up  two 
flights  of  stairs. 


254      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

What  with  the  emotions  lie  had  gone  through  the 
preceding  day,  his  night  journey,  the  state  of  hustle  he 
had  been  experiencing  ever  since,  and  the  mysterious 
summons,  he  was  in  a  state  of  excitement  very  unusual 
in  him.  As  they  hastened  along  a  wide  corridor,  a  door 
close  to  him  flew  open,  a  man  ran  out,  and  collided 
with  him  with  such  force  that  Brendon  went  stagger- 
ing some  paces  in  order  not  to  fall  down. 

"  Confound !  "  he  exclaimed  angrily,  flushing  with 
annoyance,  and  turning  to  stare  after  the  hastening 
man,  who  with  hardly  an  apology  was  walking  away. 
The  hoy  conducting  him,  who  had  been  in  advance, 
seeing  Brendon's  red  face  and  perturbed  aspect,  halted 
a  moment,  wondering  whether  there  would  be  further 
developments :  then,  as  if  deciding  that  there  would  not, 
he  opened  a  door,  and  called  sonorously: 

"Mr.  Brendon." 

Oliver  went  in.  A  handsome,  middle-aged  man  was 
seated  at  a  table  reading  the  newspaper,  with  a  tray 
and  decanters  beside  him. 

"  I  trust  I  am  not  too  late,"  began  Oliver,  somewhat 
in  a  hurry. 

The  man  stood  up,  and  shook  hands.  He  looked 
curiously  at  the  young  man's  raised  colour  and  heated 
aspect.  "  Dear  me !  "  he  said.  "  ~No  hurry,  sir !  No 
hurry  at  all.  I  fear  you  have  been  putting  yourself  to 
unnecessary  trouble." 

"  I  hurried  a  bit,"  replied  Oliver,  conscious  of  a 
sudden  fall  in  his  spirits,  since  this  man  was  certainly 
not  Barrymore,  whose  features  were  as  well  known  to 
all  journalists  as  those  of  his  Most  Gracious  Majesty. 
"  I  have  been  out  of  London,  and  only  received  Mr. 
Barrymore's  message  a  few  minutes  ago.  I  conclude 
that  as  I  am  late,  he  has  been  unable  to  wait  to  see  me." 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      255 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all.  He  is  at  this  moment  dic- 
tating to  one  of  his  secretaries.  I  will  let  him  know 
that  you  are  here.  He  was  most  anxious  to  see  you, 
Mr.  Brendon.  I  think  I  may  take  it  upon  myself  to 
say  so  much.  I  —  I  understand  you  have  severed  all 
connection  with  the  Penman?" 

"  That  is  so,  I  am  going  abroad  —  starting  this  even- 
ing, in  fact." 

"  Sit  down.  You  look  a  bit  fagged.  Have  a  drink 
while  I  go  and  summon  Mr.  Barrymore." 

The  man's  manner  was  reassuring  and  kind.  He 
poured  out  a  whisky  and  soda,  for  which  Oliver  felt 
truly  grateful. 

"  I  understood  you  to  say,"  went  on  the  unknown,  as 
his  visitor  sipped  his  drink,  "  that  you  are  leaving  Eng- 
land to-day.  I  hope  that  does  not  mean  that  you  have 
accepted  permanent  work  ?  " 

"  Not  permanent,"  said  Oliver,  vaguely.  He  was 
surprised  to  find  that  he  felt  quite  stupid.  Surely  a 
little  hurry,  a  little  agitation,  could  not  have  so  dire  an 
effect.  "  Merely  temporary,"  he  added,  and  had  much, 
ado  to  separate  the  syllables  so  as  to  make  the  word 
sound  clear. 

He  saw  the  other  man  come  near  the  table,  rest  his 
hands  upon  it,  and  look  curiously  at  him.  "Do  you 
think  you  had  better  finish  that  ?  "  said  he  softly.  "  I 
am  inclined  to  suppose  that  you  have  had  enough  al- 
ready." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  replied  Oliver,  stung  to  anger 
by  the  insinuation  and  eager  to  show  that  he  could 
articulate  properly,  "  I  have  had  nothing  all  day  — 
this  will  pull  me  together."  He  emptied  his  glass,  and 
set  it  down. 

"  I  will  go  and  tell  Mr.  Barrymore,"  said  the  other 


256      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

man.  His  voice  came  from  a  long  way  off.  Suddenly 
it  seemed  to  Oliver  that  there  was  but  one  thing  to  be 
done,  and  that  was  to  yield  for  two  minutes  to  the  drow- 
siness that  was  stealing  over  him.  He  saw  the  man  go 
out  of  the  room,  he  heard  the  door  close  behind  him. 
His  eyes  also  closed,  as  it  were,  simultaneously.  He 
would  be  sure  to  awake  when  that  door  opened  again. 
He  had  once  or  twice,  after  a  long  night's  work,  been 
overtaken  by  momentary  drowsiness  before.  This  had 
come  on  very  suddenly.  The  chair  was  comfortable. 
His  dark  head  fell  back  against  the  cushions,  and  con- 
sciousness left  him. 

He  awoke,  after  a  fashion.  That  is,  he  became  par- 
tially conscious.  The  room,  he  thought,  was  full  of 
people,  moving,  murmuring,  quarrelling.  He  wanted 
to  speak,  to  reprove  them,  to  ask  them  to  go  away. 
After  many  efforts,  he  succeeded  in  making  his  voice 
heard.  The  effect  was  extraordinary.  Immediately 
he  was  in  solitude  and  darkness.  He  sat  up. 

One  shaking  hand  to  his  throbbing  forehead,  he  tried 
to  decide  where  he  was.  He  felt  about  him.  In  a 
chair :  —  near  a  table :  —  that  was  all  he  could  find  out 
without  rising.  Then  he  had  better  rise. 

Ah!  That  was  a  difficult  matter.  Weights  of  lead 
seemed  to  hold  him  down.  At  first  he  really  thought 
that  he  was  bound.  But  nothing  held  him  except  his 
heavy  limbs.  He  rose,  and  the  world  rocked. 

He  felt  in  his  pockets  for  matches.  There  they  were, 
but  he  could  not  stand  erect  if  he  used  both  his  hands. 
He  had  to  grope  for  the  chair  again,  sit  down,  and  make 
many  efforts  before  he  could  strike  a  light. 

The  flicker  showed  him  a  hotel  sitting-room,  and  the 
whole  thing  rolled  back  upon  his  dulled  brain.  How 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      257 

long  had  he  slept  ?  Had  he  missed  his  train  ?  What 
could  have  happened  to  him  ? 

His  brain  was  still  far  too  bemused  for  him  to  reason, 
but  the  one  dominant  idea  that  he  had  missed  the  boat- 
train  overcame  him.  He  pulled  out  his  watch,  and  saw 
that  it  pointed  to  a  quarter  to  twelve. 

A  quarter  to  twelve! 

The  match  went  out.  He  lit  another,  and  saw  the 
door.  With  a  sudden  energy  born  of  despair  he  rose, 
crossed  the  floor,  and  managed  to  open  the  door  and 
pass  out  into  the  hotel  corridor,  lit  from  end  to  end. 
All  was  quiet,  he  saw  nobody.  He  could  not  remem- 
ber in  which  direction  the  staircase  ought  to  be.  He 
could  not  see  clearly,  but  he  thought  he  remembered 
that  it  was  a  long  way  from  the  door  of  the  room  from 
which  he  had  just  come.  He  started  to  run,  staggering 
and  lurching ;  and  in  a  minute  had,  as  it  were,  stepped 
off  into  nothingness,  and  fell  heavily,  rolling  over  and 
over  down  the  wide  stairs. 

There  was  a  confusion  of  voices,  then.  Somebody 
came  and  took  him  up.  He  found  himself  in  a  chair, 
in  the  hall.  He  heard  a  remote  voice  say  contemptu- 
ously, "  Drunk  as  a  lord !  Lor',  there's  a  providence 
watches  over  'em !  " 

He  tried  to  speak,  and  his  voice  was  so  thick  and 
guttural  that  he  did  not  recognise  it.  "I  am  hurt,  I 
am  hurt,"  he  repeated. 

There  seemed  to  be  a  consultation.  "  Can't  keep  'im 
'ere.  Give  'im  in  charge." 

"  He  come  drunk,  in  the  afternoon,  went  barging 
into  Number  Twelve  and  near  upset  him." 

"  I  am  —  not  —  drunk,"  repeated  Oliver,  in  a  thick 
voice.  Then  came  a  policeman,  bending  over  him. 


258      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

Then  they  helped  him  up,  and  he  was  taken  somewhere, 
he  did  not  know  where,  nor  how  he  got  there,  for  be- 
tween pain,  and  the  as  yet  unspent  force  of  the  drug,  he 
was  almost  wholly  unconscious.  He  knew  they  tried 
to  make  him  stand  up  and  answer  questions.  He  knew 
that  a  doctor  felt  his  pulse,  for  the  result  was  to  make 
him  cry  out  in  pain,  upon  which  the  doctor  possessed 
himself  of  his  wrist,  and  some  others  held  him  to  pre- 
vent resistance,  while  the  doctor  did  something  which 
hurt  vilely.  After  that,  at  last,  they  laid  him  down  to 
rest.  The  desire  to  catch  his  train  had  all  faded  from 
his  mind.  He  only  wanted  to  be  alone,  quiet,  in  the 
dark. 

Another  awakening.  This  time  to  full  consciousness, 
but  only  confused  memory,  and  a  dull  sense  of  pain. 

He  saw  the  doctor  plainly  this  time,  as  he  came  in, 
and  understood  when  he  was  told  that  he  had  broken  his 
right  wrist.  He  eagerly  assured  the  doctor  that  he  was 
suffering  from  drugs,  not  drink.  The  doctor  listened 
politely,  but  with  evident  lack  of  belief.  The  young 
man  had  smelt  too  strongly  of  whisky  when  he  was 
brought  in.  Oliver  further  assured  him  that  he  must 
have  been  robbed  —  he  had  been  decoyed  to  the  hotel 
to  be  robbed.  The  doctor  called  a  warder,  and  they 
examined  the  things  taken  from  him  over-night.  There 
was  his  gold  watch,  his  sovereign  purse,  his  handsome 
silver  cigarette-case,  and  his  pocketbook,  intact,  with 
four  Bank  of  England  notes  in  it.  Even  to  Oliver's 
own  mind,  the  charge  broke  down.  Why  should  thieves 
decoy  him  to  a  hotel,  drug  him,  and  not  proceed  to  rob 
him?  He  felt  so  incredibly  foolish  that  he  ceased  to 
urge  his  innocence  of  the  charge  of  drunkenness. 
Brought  up  before  the  magistrate,  he  refrained  from 
repeating  his  story,  or  from  saying  anything  which 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     259 

might  make  the  case  of  enough  interest  to  get  into  the 
papers.  His  name  he  could  not  withhold,  since  he  had 
letters  on  him,  and  a  card-case.  He  paid  his  fine,  and 
found  himself  in  the  street,  ill  and  sick,  disheartened 
and  bewildered,  the  only  thing  that  was  clear  to  him 
being  that  he  had  lost  his  job.  He  could  not  proceed  io 
the  seat  of  war  with  a  broken  wrist. 

What  to  do  was  a  puzzle.  At  first  he  thought  of 
going  to  his  club.  But  the  idea  that  the  account  of  his 
being  before  the  beak,  fined  for  drunkenness,  might  be 
known  by  the  time  the  evening  paper  came  out  made 
him  flinch  from  that. 

In  his  heart  was  a  desire  which  amounted  to  positive 
longing,  to  go  to  his  wife.  He  remembered  Astrid,  one 
evening  at  the  Abbot's  House,  when  Sybil  had  had  a 
headache.  He  recalled  the  tenderness  without  fussi- 
ness,  the  soft  movement,  the  knowledge  of  what  the  suf- 
ferer wanted  and  would  like.  But,  apart  from  her  re- 
pudiation of  him,  a  caravan  was  no  place  for  a  sick 
man  with  a  broken  limb. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  no  choice  but  to  go  to 
Thackridge. 

He  felt  so  utterly  stupid  and  heavy-headed  that  he 
was  not  even  competent  to  wire  to  the  Sentinel  that  a 
serious  accident  obliged  him  to  throw  up  his  job.  His 
mother  must  do  that.  He  hailed  a  taxi,  and  gave 
orders  to  be  driven  the  whole  way.  He  had  just  sense 
to  go  first  to  the  club  and  pick  up  his  luggage;  then 
he  threw  himself  back  upon  the  cushions,  and  tried  to 
force  connected  thought  upon  his  aching  brain,  until 
the  agony  became  too  keen,  and  he  subsided  into 
semi-coma. 


He  sorrowed, —  not  as  one 

Who  can  command  the  gamut  of  despair; 
But  as  a  man  who  feels  his  days  are  done, 
So  dead  they  seem, —  so  desolately  bare. 

AUSTIN  DOBSON. 

SYBIL  had  just  finished  lunch,  and  gone  upstairs  to 
make  ready  for  a  motor  drive  with  the  Colonel. 

The  engagement  into  which  she  had  entered  so  half- 
heartedly was  becoming  by  degrees  a  delightful  thing  to 
her.  Not  only  did  her  personal  pleasure  exceed  her 
expectation,  but  it  seemed  already  to  have  had  the  effect, 
which  the  Colonel  had  predicted,  of  causing  Oliver  to 
realize  that  his  mother  did  not  exist  wholly  and  solely 
on  his  account. 

During  her  son's  last  visit  —  the  visit  in  which  he 
confessed  his  change  of  fortune,  and  more  than  hinted 
of  a  corresponding  change  of  heart,  she  had  been  nearer 
happiness  than  she  had  thought  she  could  ever  be  again. 
Oliver  had  been  his  own  natural  self.  He  had  spoken 
and  felt  just  as  he  ought  —  as  she  had  always  taken 
for  granted  that  his  father's  son  would  speak  and  feel. 

Grieved  though  she  was  at  his  loss  of  position,  and 
perhaps  still  more  at  the  manner  of  it,  she  yet  felt  that 
the  plunge  he  was  about  to  take  —  his  going  abroad,  his 
roughing  it,  his  new  sense  of  personal  responsibility  — 
would  in  all  probability  be  the  making  of  him. 

He  avowed  to  her  his  intention  of  journeying,  in 
spite  of  the  short  time  at  his  disposal,  all  the  way  down 

260 


'A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      261 

to  the  gipsy  encampment,  to  announce  his  new  de- 
parture to  his  wife.  Knowing  what  she  knew  of 
Astrid's  carefully  concealed  heart,  she  hoped  much 
from  that  last  farewell.  The  girl  would  appreciate  the 
feeling  which  had  brought  him  so  far,  with  so  little  time 
for  his  final  arrangements.  She  would  have  seen  that 
some  strong  force  had  drawn  him  to  her,  had  made  him 
feel  unable  to  leave  England  without  seeing  her.  She 
could  hardly  continue  to  believe  in  the  complete  indif- 
ference of  the  man  who  acted  thus.  It  might,  in  con- 
junction with  what  she  herself  would  be  feeling,  break 
down  her  pride  enough  for  her  to  send  him  away  with 
some  kind  of  hope. 

That  hope  stirred  strongly  in  Sybil's  own  breast  to- 
day. She  felt  like  a  girl  herself  in  her  soft  summer 
raiment  as  she  strolled  down  the  garden  path,  waiting 
for  the  sound  of  Walter's  motor.  To  him  she  knew 
that  she  was  just  the  same  beloved  woman  that  she  had 
been  twenty  years  before.  Love,  which  could  so  tri- 
umph over  the  years,  might  surely  also  prevail  even  over 
the  memory  of  past  cruelty  and  heal  the  deepest  wounds. 

She  heard  the  motor,  and,  turning,  ran  back  with  the 
light  foot  of  the  woman  who  goes  to  meet  her  lover. 
Quickly  she  passed  through  the  house,  her  eyes  filled 
with  the  light  that  Walter  loved  to  see  in  them  —  the 
light  that  had  been  so  carefully  hidden  during  all  the 
years  of  his  dull  patience. 

It  was  not  Walter.  It  was  a  London  taxi-cab,  and 
when  she  came  out  upon  the  gravel,  Drew  and  the  driver 
were  both  standing  by  the  door,  with  their  heads  very 
close  together.  She  heard  Drew  say,  "  Oh  my !  Oh 
dear !  There  must  have  been  an  accident !  " 

An  accident!  When  she  looked  back  upon  it  after- 
wards, she  could  hardly  believe  that  in  that  first  moment 


262      A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

her  thought  flew,  not  to  her  only  son,  but  to  Walter. 
She  pressed  forward ;  and  as  she  did  so,  the  driver,  lean- 
ing into  the  interior  of  the  cab,  drew  its  occupant  for- 
ward, and  with  Drew's  help  lifted  him  out.  His  head 
lay  upon  the  man's  shoulder,  and  his  eyes  were  closed. 
It  was  Oliver. 

Oliver!  Who  should  have  sailed  for  Tripoli  last 
night ! 

They  got  him,  between  them,  into  the  hall,  and  laid 
him  upon  a  sofa. 

His  right  arm  was  in  a  sling,  his  clothes  were  tum- 
bled, his  forehead  and  chin  were  cut  and  bruised,  and  he 
was  unshaven. 

In  terror  the  mother  demanded  where  the  man  had 
picked  up  his  fare.  He  told  her  in  the  street,  not  far 
from  the  Police  Court,  adding  that  the  gent,  when  he 
took  him  up,  was  leaning  on  a  "  copper's  "  arm.  He 
was  conscious  then,  had  given  the  address,  and  asked 
to  be  taken  to  his  club,  whence  they  had  carried  the  lug- 
gage which  he  proceeded  to  produce. 

The  cab  paid  and  dismissed,  Sybil  and  the  maid 
speedily  brought  salts,  brandy,  and  hot  water;  and  in 
a  short  while  Oliver  opened  his  eyes*  Evidently  he 
knew  his  mother,  for  an  expression  of  satisfaction 
dawned  on  his  face.  He  was  persuaded  to  drink,  and 
the  effects  were  soon  apparent.  He  sat  up,  pushing 
back  his  chair  as  though  in  a  painful  effort  to  make  his 
mind  work. 

"  Mustn't  forget,"  he  said  in  a  queer,  stuttering  way, 
"  wire  to  the  Sentinel.  Can't  go.  Accident.  Wrist 

broken.  Send  for "  He  paused,  as  if  a  terrific 

feat  of  memory  were  necessary  in  order  to  continue. 
"  Tell  them,  send  for  P  —  Prentis.  Charles  Prentis, 


A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

at  the  Penman.  He'll  go,  in  my  place.  Mother,  do 
you  hear  ?  Am  I  talking  sense  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  understand.  I  am  to  wire  to  the  Sentinel 
that  you  cannot  go,  and  suggest  they  send  young  Prentis 
instead  ? " 

He  looked  satisfied.  "  That's  right.  Now  I  can  let 
go  my  head.  It  ...  it's  so  mighty  hard  to  k  —  keep 
it  on  my  shoulders.  Will  it  matter  if  I  .  .  .  let  go  ? " 

"  Not  at  all,  dearest.  Never  mind  about  your  head. 
I'll  see  to  that.  But  do  you  think,  with  our  help,  you 
could  walk  upstairs  to  bed  ?  " 

He  agreed  to  try,  and  somehow  the  two  women  got 
him  as  far  as  the  bottom  of  the  stairs.  But  there  they 
must  have  laid  him  down,  had  not  the  Colonel  at  the 
moment  arrived  to  the  rescue.  A  few  hurried  words, 
and  exclamations,  and  he  had  grasped  the  essential  fact 
that  Oliver  must  be  got  up  to  bed ;  and  in  a  short  while 
it  was  done. 

The  doctor,  when  he  arrived,  was  anxious.  There 
was  a  high  temperature,  with  delirium.  The  brain  was 
excited.  The  young  man  was  in  just  such  a  state  as 
might  develop  into  brain  fever.  The  greatest  care  was 
necessary,  absolute  quiet,  a  first-rate  nurse  —  ice  and 
other  remedies. 

The  setting  of  the  wrist  was  examined  and  improved. 
Applications  to  lessen  the  pain  were  applied.  The  sick- 
ness which  supervened  was  a  grave  symptom.  It  was  in 
all  probability  the  result  of  shock.  They  concluded 
that  Oliver  must  have  been  knocked  down  by  a  motor ; 
but  there  was  no  mud  on  his  clothes. 

The  telephone  brought  a  nurse  in  a  few  hours'  time ; 
and  Sybil  and  the  Colonel  were  left  in  deepest  anxiety 


264      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

to  await  the  developments  of  the  next  twenty-four 
hours. 

It  was  some  days  before  this  anxiety  was  wholly  re- 
moved. The  brain  congestion  passed  off,  to  the  mother's 
profound  relief,  without  the  threatened  fever.  Never- 
theless, there  remained  a  condition  of  cerebral  irritation, 
which  demanded  great  care  and  perfect  quiet. 

Sybil,  after  somewhat  profound  thought,  decided  not 
to  send  word  to  Astrid.  Her  reasons  for  keeping  her  in 
ignorance  were  many.  Among  the  strongest  was  her 
desire  that  Astrid  should  remain,  at  least  for  a  time, 
under  the  impression  that  Oliver  had  really  left  Eng- 
land. She  would  not  be  expecting  news  from  him  for 
several  days,  so  that  she  would  be  in  no  undue  anxiety ; 
but  Sybil  hoped  much  from  the  parting,  as  she  in  her 
own  mind  imagined  it  to  have  been,  and  the  succeeding 
absence  and  possible  danger  of  the  young  man.  An- 
other reason  was  the  fact  of  Astrid's  own  late  ill-health, 
and  the  doctor's  warning  respecting  her  nerves.  If 
things  turned  out  very  badly,  and  brain  fever  super- 
vened, then  it  would  be  but  just  to  inform  the  wife. 
But  to  alarm  her  unnecessarily  would  be  unwise  and 
cruel.  She  was  presumably  regaining  strength  each 
day,  and  would  be  in  a  better  state  to  bear  the  bad  news 
if  bad  it  should  prove  to  be. 

Since  Oliver's  precipitate  journey  and  return,  Sybil 
had  had  but  one  note  from  her  daughter-in-law.  Thus 
it  ran :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  MRS.  BRENDON, 

"  Oliver  tells  me  that  you  are  good  enough  to 
wish  to  have  me  with  you  for  a  time.  I  need  not  tell 
you  that  that  is  what  I  wish  also.  Will  you  let  me 
know  whether  you  would  like  me  to  come  at  once? 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     265 

The  Selbys  are  not  thinking  of  breaking  up  the  camp 
until  next  Monday;  but  I  can  come  when  you  want 
me;  Mr.  Selby  says  he  will  spare  me.  Oliver  also 
told  me  of  your  approaching  marriage,  and  I  should 
like  to  wish  you  happiness. 

"  I  am,  sincerely  yours, 

"ASTRID  BRENDON." 

Underneath  a  hasty  postscript :  "  You  deserve  it ! 
O,  you  do !  You  do !  " 

This  letter  was  not  wholly  satisfactory  to  Sybil.  It 
was  colder  and  more  guarded  than  Astrid's  letters  had 
been  of  late.  It  made  her  wonder  what,  if  anything, 
had  transpired  between  the  two.  Oliver's  words  to  her- 
self, before  going  to  take  leave  of  his  wife,  had  inspired 
her  with  hope.  He  seemed  to  be  filled  with  regret  for 
his  unkindness  to  Astrid,  and  anxious  to  do  all  he  could 
for  her.  His  tone  and  manner  had  seemed  to  express 
more  than  what  he  actually  said;  They  had  led  his 
mother  even  to  the  length  of  hoping  that  "  all  he  could  " 
might  be  something  that  Astrid's  pride  would  allow  her 
to  accept.  Well!  She  had  accepted  this  arrangement 
which  he  had  made  for  her  —  that  she  should  come  back 
to  the  Abbot's  House.  Sybil  guessed  she  would  be  glad 
to  do  this,  because  of  her  much-prized  secretaryship. 
She  could  imagine  the  gratification  it  would  be  to  the 
girl's  fierce  independence  to  know  that  she  had  this  post, 
which  would  prevent  her  having  to  apply  for  money  to 
Oliver.  The  mother-in-law  pulled  a  wry  face  as  she 
reflected  that  it  is  possible  to  be  too  proud,  and  perhaps 
wished  her  son's  wife  a  trifle  more  malleable. 

There  was  a  thought  floating  about  in  the  background 
of  Sybil's  mind.  Oliver  had  told  her  that  the  Selbys 
were  extremely  fond  of  Astrid,  thought  nothing  too  good 


266     A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

for  her,  made  a  great  fuss  with  her :  Dan  had  said  that 
dictating  to  her  was  in  itself  inspiring. 

Would  it  be  unnatural  should  the  girl,  so  despised 
where  she  should  have  been  most  treasured,  turn  with 
thankfulness  to  those  from  whom  she  had  obtained  in- 
stant recognition  of  her  attractiveness,  instant  restora- 
tion of  her  almost  perished  self-respect  ? 

Sybil  liked  Dan  Selby  sincerely;  and  the  result  of 
her  meditation  was  a  conviction  that  something  ought 
to  be  devised  for  taking  his  perfect  secretary  away  from 
him. 

She  wrote  a  brief  but  affectionate  reply  to  Astrid's 
note,  saying  that  the  time  suggested  would  suit  very 
well,  and  she  would  expect  her  on  that  date.  As  the 
days  passed,  her  own  concealment  of  what  had  happened 
caused  her  some  mental  disquiet ;  but  as  there  was,  after 
the  first  four-and-twenty  hours,  no  danger,  she  held  to 
her  resolution,  thinking  that,  when  the  delirium  passed, 
she  might  obtain  a  clue  to  Oliver's  own  feeling  on  the 
subject. 

She  was  not  surprised  that  almost  his  first  coherent 
words  to  her  should  be,  "  I  hope  you  have  not  said  any- 
thing of  all  this  to  Astrid  ? "  adding,  after  a  pause, 
"  On  no  account  must  she  be  distressed.  When  I  am 
all  right  again,  she  can  be  told,  if  necessary.  But  I 
daresay  she  will  have  gone  to  Ireland  by  then." 

His  mind  was  evidently  full  of  his  wife,  and  his 
mother  listened  with  some  surprise  to  his  opinion  as  to 
her  probable  movements.  She  had  in  her  pocket  her 
daughter-in-law's  letter,  promising  to  come  to  her  in 
the  course  of  a  very  few  days.  She  did  not  say  so,  how- 
ever; she  waited  to  hear  more.  Oliver  lay  very  quiet 
for  some  time  without  speaking,  his  eyes  open,  evidently 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     267 

thinking  deeply.     At  last  he  said  in  a  kind  of  helpless 
depression,  "  I  shall  never  see  her  again." 

"  !Never  see  her  again,  dear  ?  "  she  asked  timidly. 

"  ISTo.  She  has  done  with  me.  One  can't  be  sur- 
prised. I  rather  wish  those  chaps,  whoever  they  were, 
had  finished  me." 

This  was  a  reference  to  his  accident.  Sybil  eagerly 
longed  for  more  on  that  head,  but  did  not  dare  put  ques- 
tions to  him,  as  she  was  warned  that  he  ought  not  to 
talk.  The  nurse  came  in  at  the  moment  and  depreca- 
tingly  begged  that  there  might  be  no  conversation. 

The  next  day,  however,  the  patient  was  stronger ;  and 
the  day  following,  which  was  Saturday,  Sybil  ventured 
to  ask  if  he  remembered  the  circumstances  of  his  acci- 
dent. 

He  replied  a  little  huffed,  that  he  certainly  did.  His 
mind  seemed  in  all  respects  perfectly  clear,  and  his 
mother  was  unprepared  for  the  wild  story  he  told. 
Manifestly  he  was  talking  rubbish.  That  he  should 
have  been  decoyed  to  a  hotel,  drugged,  and  left  help- 
less, without  being  robbed,  was  so  improbable  as  to  seem 
hardly  worth  considering.  He  told  it  all,  however, 
without  the  least  suspicion  that  the  truth  of  his  state- 
ment would  be  doubted. 

Sybil,  much  bewildered,  repeated  what  he  said  to  the 
Colonel  and  the  doctor.  The  latter  admitted  that  the 
state  in  which  Mr.  Brendon  had  arrived  home  was  quite 
compatible  with  his  having  been  drugged.  Respecting 
the  truth  of  the  rest  of  the  story,  the  Colonel  had  only 
to  go  to  the  Golden  Ball  Hotel  and  inquire,  which  he 
did  that  very  day. 

Oliver's  story  received  some  confirmation,  although 
the  authorities,  to  whom  Mr.  Barrymore  was  well 


268      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

known,  denied  that  he  had  been  to  the  hotel  for  some 
months  past.  However,  on  the  day  named,  a  gentleman 
had  engaged  a  room  for  a  private  appointment,  and  had 
been  in  a  difficulty  because  the  client  whom  he  had 
appointed  to  meet  had  unfortunately  arrived  too  drunk 
to  transact  business.  The  gentleman  explained  that, 
not  detecting  an  already  advanced  stage  of  intoxication, 
he  had  offered  a  stiff  whisky  and  soda>  which  the  young 
man,  having  finished  at  one  draught,  was  then  engaged 
in  sleeping  off.  The  gentleman',  who  gave  the  name  of 
Brown,  had  engaged  the  room  for  twenty-four  hours, 
paying  in  advance.  He  therefore  left  the  young  man 
there  until  his  brain  should  clear,  and  went  off,  saying 
he  would  return  later. 

The  Colonel  asked  for  a  description  of  the  man  in 
the  alleged  stage  of  intoxication,  and  felt  no  doubt  that 
it  was  Oliver.  Mr.  Brown,  they  said,  had  come  back 
early  the  next  morning,  to  see  if  his  friend  were  sober 
enough  to  settle  the  matter  in  hand.  They  had  had  to 
inform  him  that  the  person  left  in  occupation  of  his 
room  having  caused  a  disturbance  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  they  had  given  him  into  custody.  It  was  not  at 
all  an  unusual  thing  for  them  to  let  a  room  for  business 
appointments. 

The  hall  porter  and  the  man  who  stood  at  the  hall 
desk  alike  declared  it  their  firm  belief  that  Oliver  had 
rolled  downstairs  in  a  state  of  intoxication.  When  the 
Colonel  gave  his  opinion  that  a  man  who  had  broken  a 
limb  should  have  been  sent  to  a  hospital,  and  not  to  the 
lock-up,  they  replied  that  they  had  no  idea  of  his  having 
broken  a  limb,  and  as  a  rule  those  who  were  "  tight " 
never  hurt  themselves  seriously. 

The  whole  thing  left  the  Colonel  both  puzzled  and 
troubled.  He  did  not  like  to  make  too  much  fuss  about 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      269 

it  until  lie  could  be  quite  satisfied  that  Oliver  had  not 
behaved  in  a  discreditable  manner.  A  year  ago  he 
would  have  been  furious  had  such  a  charge  been  levelled 
against  the  young  man  who  stood  so  aloof  from  the 
more  vulgar  forms  of  folly.  But  a  man  who  will  marry 
his  typewriter  girl  out  of  pique  will  also  perhaps  com- 
mit other  indiscretions. 

It  seemed  inconceivable  that  any  one  should  be  de- 
coyed to  a  room  and  drugged  with  no  object.  Was  it 
possible  that  some  one  had  a  reason  for  preventing  Oli- 
ver's going  to  the  front?  This  suggestion  was  uncon- 
vincing, because  his  enemies  could  not  have  foreseen  his 
broken  wrist;  and  a  few  hours'  delay  would,  without 
that  injury,  have  made  little  difference. 

They  hesitated  to  cross-question  the  invalid.  When 
first  he  told  his  story  they  had  listened,  disbelieved,  and 
waited  for  a  time  when  his  brain  should  clear.  When 
he  repeated  it,  they  pointed  out  to  him  gently  that  he 
had  not  been  robbed,  and  they  wondered  why  he  should 
have  been  drugged.  This  produced  vexation  and  quer- 
ulous impatience.  "  Did  they  take  him  for  a  fool  ?  " 

They  relinquished  inquiry  until  his  convalescence 
should  have  reached  a  more  advanced  stage. 

Down  in  the  west,  the  June  days  dawned  and  set  in 
splendour.  But  to  Astrid  there  had  passed  away  a 
glory  from  the  earth. 

She  lived,  over  and  over  again,  her  parting  from 
Oliver.  She  asked  herself  whether  she  had  done  right 
or  wrong.  The  question  being  quite  unanswerable,  she 
wearied  herself  both  by  day  and  night  to  find  an  ade- 
quate reply. 

Tessa,  who  had  been  inclined  to  think  that  there  was 
a  biggish  rift  in  the  Brendon  matrimonial  lute,  was 


270     A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

changing  her  opinion  when  she  saw  how  the  girl  felt 
the  parting.  Astrid  bore  her  sympathy,  though  writh- 
ing at  the  false  pretences  under  which  she  accepted  it. 
She  had  a  feeling  that,  since  it  was  settled  that  the 
parting  between  herself  and  Oliver  was  final,  she  ought 
perhaps  to  tell  these  kind  friends  of  hers  that  so  it  was. 
They  would  have  to  know,  sooner  or  later. 

The  prospect  of  telling,  however,  daunted  her.  It 
must  be  later,  not  sooner.  Her  husband's  absence,  felt 
to  be  inevitable,  was  paving  the  way  for  the  future. 
Soon  she  would  have  got  over  the  sharpness  of  feeling, 
and  be  able  to  mention  these  things  calmly.  Just  now 
she  could  do  no  such  thing. 

The  week  passed  melancholy.  Dan  was  in  deep  de- 
pression. Though  he  knew  that  she  would  be  at  the 
Abbot's  House  for  the  present,  and  was  to  come  to  him 
every  day,  he  saw  that  the  brief  business  hours  would 
be  another  thing  indeed  —  wholly  unlike  the  gipsy  com- 
panionship, the  intimacy  of  cooking  and  washing  dishes, 
the  long  strolls,  by  sunset  and  moonlight,  the  everlast- 
ing talks,  concerning  things  literary  and  things  per- 
sonal. 

It  was  hard  on  Dan.  Oliver,  by  putting  his  wife  in 
a  false  position,  was  injuring  more  than  herself  and 
him.  Dan's  very  nobility  made  him  suifer  more.  He 
knew  he  was  nothing  to  the  one  woman  in  the  world 
whom  he  would  fain  have  attached  to  himself.  He  felt 
the  unusualness  of  Astrid  as  deeply  as  Sybil  herself. 
He  viewed  Oliver  as  the  ordinary  young  Oxford  prod- 
uct, looking  down  upon  the  world  from  the  height  of 
a  well-taught  but  not  much  more  than  mediocre  ability 
—  a  young  man  whom  you  could  have  matched  over 
and  over  again  from  among  his  own  set ;  Astrid  he  saw 
as  a  bright  particular  star,  beyond  and  above  her  sex; 


A    MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE     271 

a  warp  of  sterling  principle,  with  a  woof  of  that  Irish 
humour  which  is  more  than  half  sad. 

It  might  have  done  Oliver  good,  could  he  have  known 
the  light  in  which  Dan  Selby  viewed  his  mesalliance. 

So  the  days  slipped  away,  to  the  very  last.  As  each 
minute  of  it  ticked  by,  Dan  knew  it  was  the  end.  The 
whole  expedition  was  etched  in  upon  his  memory  with 
fidelity  as  detailed  as  the  fine  touches  of  a  mezzotint. 
He  knew  that  it  was  the  fortnight  of  his  life.  He 
would  never  have  such  another.  The  memory  of  the 
small  pale  face,  the  characteristic  movements,  the  clear 
voice,  with  its  cadence  that  was  not  quite  English  — 
they  were  with  him  until  the  last  days  of  existence. 
Let  the  future  hold  what  it  might,  it  never  again  could 
hold  just  that. 

Tessa  saw  and  understood.  She  would  have  given 
much  that  such  a  trouble  should  not  have  fallen  upon 
her  brother.  Yet  she  could  not  help  knowing  that  he 
would  be  a  greater  artist  because  of  it.  He  had  seen, 
as  in  a  magic  glass,  the  vision  of  what  a  woman  might 
be.  The  woman  was  removed  from  him  by  a  barrier 
not  to  be  broken.  The  whole  thing  was  thus  raised  to 
an  Ideal.  It  was  a  sorrow,  but  a  sorrow  full  of  beauty, 
a  thing  that  might  enrich  his  life  and  enable  him  to 
put  upon  paper  the  impression  of  a  wonderful  experi- 
ence. 

Not  yet.  It  was  too  fresh,  too  near,  too  actual. 
Hereafter. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  which  of  the  three  felt  most 
acutely  the  strain  of  those  last  days.  The  two  men, 
Martin  and  Humphrey  Spence,  came  down  as  usual  for 
the  week-end,  finding  the  party  in  another  camp,  a  day's 
journey  nearer  London.  It  was  half  pain,  half  pleas- 
ure to  Astrid  to  leave  the  moorland  camp.  She 


272     A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

slipped  away  when  she  could,  to  sit  in  the  very  place  on 
the  moor  where  Oliver  had  sat  during  their  last  talk. 
She  recalled  his  looks  and  words,  and  the  evident  morti- 
fication with  which  he  had  received  her  last  suggestion 
—  an  attitude  for  which  she  had  been  wholly  unpre- 
pared. She  thought  of  him  out  in  Africa,  hot,  weary, 
thirsty,  badly  lodged 

He  need  not  have  gone.  He  would  not  have  gone  but 
for  the  disorder  of  his  spirits.  He  had  said  so. 

There  was  one  glimmer  of  light.  He  would  be 
pleased  when  he  heard  that  she  had  betaken  herself  to 
Thackridge  for  a  while,  to  help  his  mother. 

"  It  is  exactly  what  would  please  me  most/'  She 
could  hear  the  cadence  of  his  voice  as  he  said  it ;  and 
she  dwelt  upon  the  way  in  which  he  had  repeated  hia 
mother's  words.  "  She  said  she  would  rather  have  you 
than  any  one  in  the  world." 

There  had  been  exultation  in  that  speech.  His 
mother  loved  his  wife.  She  knew  she  could  not  escape 
from  the  knowledge  of  his  being  gratified  that  this 
should  be. 

She  had  two  minds.  One,  the  inner  and  most  cen- 
tral, was  convinced  of  his  hopeless  indifference;  had 
^been  convinced  of  it  from  the  moment  when  she  first 
saw  Vivien.  The  other,  the  one  more  easily  influenced 
by  sense,  still  craved,  still  snatched  at  hope.  The  strug- 
gle tore  her. 

So  passed  the  last  hours. 

For  the  previous  two  days  they  had  been  upon  the 
road,  and  had  reached  the  town  whence  the  caravans 
were  to  proceed  by  rail,  like  themselves.  The  silent 
tragedy  lived  itself  out,  without  one  word.  There  were 
the  three  —  two  conscious,  and  the  third  unaware. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      273 

Had  Astrid  known  the  state  of  Dan's  heart,  it  is  cer- 
tain that  she  would  have  fled:  but  her  pre-occupation 
was  far  too  deep  for  that.  Tessa  was  on  guard,  unceas- 
ingly. She  never  left  the  two  together,  and  spent  her 
time  in  preparing  conversation  which  should  be  imper- 
sonal yet  interesting  —  a  difficult  thing,  when  personal 
claims  are  crying  in  the  heart,  and  nothing  else  seems 
to  matter. 

It  is  probable  that  there  are  no  more  pitiful  battle- 
grounds than  these  of  victorious  silence.  The  future  was 
as  puzzling  as  the  present  to  these  three ;  for  Dan  was 
fearing  future  intercourse,  yet  longing  for  it :  Tessa's 
heart  was  sore  for  his  lonely  life,  and  torn  with  doubt 
as  to  how  she  could  put  a  stop  to  the  secretarial  arrange- 
ment, and  Astrid  was  determining  to  go  away  to  Ire- 
land or  perhaps  Australia,  the  moment  that  Sybil  ceased 
to  need  her. 

And  after  all,  there  was  nothing  —  nothing  said  or 
done. 

All  the  pathos  lay  in  what  was  left  unsaid  and  un- 
done. Nobody  but  Tessa  and  her  brother  would  ever 
know  what  those  days  had  meant,  and  no  word  on  the 
subject  could  ever  pass  between  them. 

Dan  held  out  manfully.  His  masculine  density 
failed  to  detect  the  delicate  stratagems  of  Tessa.  When 
it  turned  out  that  he  could  have  no  final  stroll  with  As- 
trid, because  Tessa  had  forgotten  something  which  he 
must  fetch  from  the  town,  he  took  it  as  a  part  of  a  gen- 
eral scheme  of  "  rottenness  " —  a  perversity  of  fate 
which  was  just  now  evilly  disposed  towards  him.  He 
knew  nothing  of  the  sisterly  tenderness  with  which  her 
heart  was  charged. 

If  Astrid's  heart  had  wavered,  or  her  allegiance  been 


274     A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

for  a  moment  in  doubt,  all  might  have  gone  otherwise ; 
but  in  those  days  Dan  might  almost  as  well  not  have  ex- 
isted as  far  as  she  was  concerned. 

Thus  the  desperate  situation  was  surmounted.  Dan 
travelled  to  town  in  a  smoking-carriage,  and  left  Tessa 
and  Astrid  free  to  discuss  wedding  details.  The  two 
weddings  upon  her  immediate  horizon  were  a  source  of 
some  interest  to  Mrs.  Oliver. 

Up  to  the  very  door  of  the  Abbot's  House,  the  kind 
escort  accompanied  the  secretary. 

Her  modest  luggage  was  taken  from  among  their  own. 
Tessa  leaned  forward  from  the  cab,  and  said  gaily, 
"  Good-bye,  my  dear,  or  rather  —  au  revoir !  —  see 
you  to-morrow  or  the  next  day !  " 

Dan,  standing  on  the  doorstep,  uncovered  his  rough 
head,  and  held  out  his  hand  much  as  he  might  have  held 
it  in  the  sacrificial  flame.  Astrid  took  it,  and  let  it 
fall.  "  You  have  given  me  a  good  time !  I  shall  never 
forget  it,"  she  faltered,  not  looking  at  either  of  them. 
"  I  will  let  you  know  as  soon  as  I  find  out  how  much  of 
me  Mrs.  Brendon  wants.  Then  we  can  make  arrange- 
ments. Good-bye  for  to-day." 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Dan,  in  a  most  commonplace  tone. 
He  added  no  other  syllable.  Then  he  took  his  seat  by 
his  sister,  and  as  they  drove  out  of  the  gates,  Tessa  said 
with  interest,  "  Just  look,  Dan,  how  that  Dorothy  Per- 
kins has  grown !  It  was  only  put  in  last  year !  " 

"  Jove,  yes.  A  good  three  feet  already,  I  should  say ; 
and  it's  only  June !  " 

His  own  words  startled  him.  Was  it  only  June  ? 
What  was  he  to  do  with  the  rest  of  the  year  —  with  the 
rest  of  his  journey  along  the  long,  dull  road  ? 


CHAPTER  XXV 

You  have  the  fair  face:  for  the  soul,  see  mine! 
I  have  the  strong  soul:  let  me  teach  you  here. 
I  think  I  have  borne  enough,  and  long  enough, 
And  patiently  enough,  the  world  remarks, 
To  have  my  own  way  now,  unblamed  by  all. 

R.  BROWNING. 

ALAS  for  Dan  Selby !  Astrid  had  liked  him  very 
much,  when  she  was  at  leisure  to  consider  him.  Of  late 
she  had  found  him  wearisome. 

Since  her  final  parting  from  Oliver,  her  interest  in 
Dan's  novel  had  faded,  her  work  had  become  mere  rou- 
tine. She  could  not  however  fail  to  be  aware  that  this 
withdrawal  of  her  sympathy  had  been  very  disappoint- 
ing to  the  novelist.  The  knowledge  had  made  the  last 
few  days  of  their  tour  difficult  and  unpleasant  to  her. 

But  now  it  was  over.  Now  she  could  feel  that  the 
tension  was  relaxed.  When  Dan  and  she  met  again, 
she  would  have  come  to  a  clear  decision,  her  plans  would 
be  made,  and  she  would  have  to  face  the  unpleasant  mo- 
ment of  avowal  —  the  breaking  to  him  of  the  news 
that  his  second  secretary  also  was  about  to  forsake  him. 
This  would  be  distasteful,  of  course;  but  it  would  be 
definite;  and  she  need  not  worry  over  it  at  this  mo- 
ment, when  her  whole  being  was  centred  in  quite  an- 
other direction.  The  sound  of  his  cab  wheels  had 
hardly  died  away  before  there  sprang  into  the  fore- 
ground of  her  heart  the  mingled  feelings,  the  sickness 
of  excitement  which  her  return  to  the  Abbot's  House 

275 


276      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

must  bring.  In  a  few  minutes  she  would  have  news  of 
Oliver,  and  she  would  see  Sybil. 

It  was  now  ten  days  since  Oliver  had  left  England. 
She  had  not  expected  to  hear  from  him  direct.  Her 
dismissal  had  been — or  he  had  chosen  to  think  so  — 
too  definite,  she  supposed,  for  him  to  let  her  know  his 
address,  or  even  of  his  safe  arrival.  To  what  end 
should  he  have  done  so?  She  did  not  intend  to  write 
to  him. 

His  mother,  however,  would  no  doubt  be  in  posses- 
sion of  the  much-desired  knowledge.  Astrid  carried 
in  her  bag  Mr.  Wolfe's  letter,  containing,  in  proper 
terms,  his  offer  to  finance  a  weekly  paper  of  which  Mr. 
Brendon  should  be  editor. 

Astrid  and  he  had  had  a  good  deal  of  correspond- 
ence. Everything  had  been  satisfactorily  arranged  be- 
tween them.  Now  the  urgent  matter  was  to  forward 
the  glad  news  to  Oliver  himself.  Her  whole  mind  was 
possessed  with  the  overmastering  desire  to  put  the  let- 
ter safely  in  the  post. 

It  excited  some  wonder  in  her  that  Sybil  was  not  in 
the  hall  to  greet  her,  and  she  asked  Drew  eagerly  where 
Mrs.  Brendon  was. 

Drew  seemed  confused.  "Mrs.  Brendon's  upstairs, 
ma'am.  I  will  let  her  know  at  once  that  you  are  here. 
Would  you  go  into  the  drawing-room  a  minute, 
ma'am  ? " 

Astrid  did  so,  with  a  faint  surprise  that  the  sight  of 
her  should  seem  to  be  causing  the  parlourmaid  agita- 
tion. Any  such  thought  however  was  but  transient, 
and  was  soon  merged  in  the  keen  memories  with  which 
the  sight  of  that  room  was  fraught  for  her. 

How  she  remembered  her  first  entrance !  The  gown 
Sybil  had  worn,  her  own  impression  of  almost  fabulous 


A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE      277 

beauty  and  luxury  in  the  surroundings :  and  the  fierce, 
shy  girl,  shivering  with  apprehension  and  resentment, 
while  her  husband  asked  her  what  her  name  was !  .  .  . 
Then  there  was  another  picture.  Herself,  clad  in  her 
very  first  pretty  gown,  the  room  filled  with  guests  on  a 
Sunday  afternoon,  and  Dan  Selby  making  friends  .  .  . 
last  of  all  there  flitted  by  the  memory  of  a  princess  in  a 
fairy-tale,  all  white  and  blue  and  golden,  standing  in 
the  glow  of  the  fire,  while  the  rain  beat  upon  the  panes, 
and  Oliver  looked  from  the  girl  he  loved,  to  the  girl  to 
whom  he  was  tied. 

With  that  thought  came,  as  usual,  the  conviction  of 
her  own  powerlessness.  She  might  remove  mountains, 
she  could  never  capture  the  heart  of  the  man  who  loved 
Vivien.  The  sound  of  the  opening  door  found  her  with 
the  quivering  shadow  of  such  thoughts  playing  over  her 
face.  Sybil  greeted  her  with  a  look  which  awoke  in 
her  vague  anxiety.  There  was  deep  affection  in  the 
embrace  in  which  she  found  herself  folded;  but  she 
noted  that  Oliver's  mother  was  nervous.  She  concluded 
that  her  dismissal  of  her  husband  was  known,  and  not 
approved.  She  was  only  too  anxious  to  pour  out  her 
vindication.  There  was  a  limit,  even  to  her  self-efface- 
ment. 

"  Why,  you  are  looking  well,  Astrid  —  even  very 
well,"  said  Sybil  with  approving  voice.  "  I  am  glad. 
You  have  quite  got  over  the  effects  of  your  accident  ? " 

"  Yes,  wonderfully,"  was  the  reply,  a  deep  blush 
heightening  the  pretty  colour  which  fresh  air  had  im- 
parted to  the  white  cheeks.  "  It  was  quite  slight,  really. 
Oliver  made  too  much  of  it.  He  was  very,  very  good 
to  me " 

She  did  not  complete  the  sentence.  In  speaking  of 
him  she  found  it  hard  to  control  her  voice.  The  one 


278     A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

urgent  question  must  be  put;  but  she  had  to  be  con- 
tent, for  a  while,  to  answer  affectionate  inquiries  con- 
cerning her  accident,  and  to-day's  journey,  and  all  the 
other  small  topics  of  the  first  ten  minutes  of  meeting. 
At  the  first  pause  she  managed  to  ask,  pretty  quietly, 
"  I  hope  you  have  good  news  of  Oliver  ?  Where  is  he 
now?" 

Sybil  had  of  course  expected  and  been  prepared  for 
some  such  inquiry ;  but  not  so  soon  and  not  quite  in  that 
form.  She  coloured,  and  looked  embarrassed,  as  she  re- 
plied drily: 

"  So  you  still  take  some  interest  in  the  poor  fellow  ?  " 

Astrid  looked  her  squarely  in  the  eyes.  "  I  expect 
he  told  you,  before  he  sailed,  that  we  had  agreed  to  sepa- 
rate permanently  ?  " 

"  isT — no.  I  don't  think  I  understood  quite  that. 
My  impression  was  that  it  was  you  who  ordained  it  and 
he  merely  submitted  to  your  wish." 

"  That's  not  fair  —  Oh,  it's  not  fair,"  said  the  girl, 
in  a  low  tone. 

"  From  what  I  heard,  I  own  I  was  surprised  when 
you  wrote  and  said  that  you  would  come  to  me.  I  be- 
lieved I  had  seen  the  last  of  you,"  went  on  Sybil. 

"  Does  that  mean  that  you  would  rather  I  had  not 
come  ?  "  The  question  burst  out  swiftly. 

"  Indeed,  no !  But  I  feel  rather  in  the  dark  as  to 
why  you  came." 

"  He  is  abroad  —  that  makes  it  safe  —  we  shall  not 
meet  —  and  I  hoped  you  really  wanted  me.  I  wished 
most  earnestly  to  be  of  use  to  you  .  .  .  because  I  love 
you." 

She  received  a  smile  and  a  hand-pressure,  both  un- 
doubtedly sincere.  But  she  felt  there  was  a  reserva- 
tion in  the  mind  of  her  mother-in-law. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      279 

"  Mrs.  Brendon,"  she  pleaded,  in  a  voice  whose 
pathos  struck  her  hearer  with  a  great  pity,  "  you  know 
there  is  a  limit  —  one  cannot  go  on  for  ever " 

"  Go  on  with  what  ?  " 

"  With  a  position  which  is  wrong,  and  false  —  a  po- 
sition which  is  a  perpetual  humiliation.  I  tried,  you 
know  I  tried,  for  a  whole  month  ..." 

"  I  know  you  had  much  to  bear,  my  dear.  But,  after 
all,  a  month  is  not  so  very  long,  when  the  happiness  of 
two  whole  lives  is  at  stake." 

"  If  there  had  been  a  chance  —  a  hope  —  ever  such 
a  tiny  one  —  I  would  have  served  seven  years!  But 
there  was  none."  She  hesitated  a  moment,  then  hur- 
ried on — "You  don't  consider,  you  can't  know,  what 
these  last  weeks  have  meant,  to  me.  It  was  infinitely 
worse  —  it  got  worse  steadily.  Here,  during  the  awful 
month,  it  was  easier.  His  manner  never  changed,  it 
was  always  hard  and  cold.  But  after  my  accident,  his 
manner  did  change.  He  was  kind  —  even  tender  with 
me.  He  was  penitent,  I  was  a  thing  he  had  hurt,  he 
wanted  to  show  me  that  he  was  sorry.  .  .  .  Can't  you 
see  how  much  worse  that  was  ?  .  .  .  Remember,  I  love 
him !  I  could  hide  that  from  him  while  we  were  ene- 
mies ;  but  when  he  wanted  to  make  it  up,  I  lived  in  ter- 
ror of  losing  control,  of  letting  him  find  out  that  I  was 
perpetually  offering  a  devotion  he  did  not  want.  I  was 
miserable  when  he  was  there,  worse  when  he  went  away. 
So,  when  he  came  and  said  he  was  going  abroad,  I 
felt  the  thing  had  got  to  end,  somehow.  How  could  I 
be  left  for  weeks  and  months  like  that  —  feeding  on  a 
hope  that  most  likely  was  without  any  justification  — 
a  shameful,  monstrous  hope,  that  not  even  my  self-re- 
spect could  strangle  ?  It  was  better  to  know  the  worst, 
and  be  done.  .  .  And  it  was  the  worst.  He  was  hon- 


280      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

est  with  me.  He  had  nothing  to  say.  He  just  accepted 
my  decision,  and  went  off.  He  was  sorry  for  me,  and 
ashamed  of  himself.  That  was  all.  There  was  no 
more ;  and  it  is  better  to  know  it  definitely.  I  — "  her 
voice  was  half  strangled  with  a  sob  — "  I  think  I  have 
suffered  enough." 

Sybil  answered  softly,  "He  thought  so,  too.  He 
said  he  only  got  what  he  deserved." 

Astrid  was  weeping.  She  repeated  to  herself,  as  she 
mopped  her  wet  eyes,  "  It  was  so  unbearable  —  so  un- 
bearable. I  had  to  escape.  I  only  wonder  I  did  not 
kill  myself.  I  think  I  should  have,  but  that  I  thought 
I  saw  one  last  way  to  be  of  service  to  him." 

"To  Oliver?" 

"  Yes.  You  have  heard  of  Mr.  Wolfe,  the  man  whose 
motor  ran  me  down  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  have." 

"  I  know  that  he  had  always  longed  to  own  a  paper, 
only  he  knew  nothing  of  the  journalistic  world,  and  was 
so  afraid  of  hitting  on  the  wrong  editor.  He  liked  the 
Penman  —  it  was  exactly  his  idea  of  what  a  paper 
should  be,  with  a  few  differences  in  detail.  So  I 
thought  I  would  try  what  I  could  do  ...  and  he  is 
going  to  finance  a  weekly,  and  make  Mr.  Brendon  edi- 
tor, if  he  will  consent." 

Sybil  sat  gazing  upon  her,  incredulous. 

She  had  done  this!  She,  this  young,  insignificant 
typist,  had  saved  Oliver  at  the  moment  of  his  deepest 
need !  She  had  seen  what  she  might  do,  she  had,  more- 
over, done  it. 

"Don't  you  think  it  a  good  idea?"  pleaded  Astrid 
wistfully,  puzzled  by  her  silence.  "We  shall  have 
practically  all  the  Penman  staff,  and,  I  believe,  in  a 
few  months,  the  Penman  public  too.  I  have  the  letter 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      281 

here  with  me,"  drawing  it  out  as  she  spoke.  "  I  want 
you  to  put  the  address  upon  it,  because  he  must  not 
know  that  I  had  anything  to  do  with  the  transaction. 
I  should  hate  to  suppose  that  he  knew.  He  might  think 
I  was  trying  to  worm  myself  into  his  favour,  or  some- 
thing like  that.  Will  you  take  the  letter,  please,  and 
add  the  address,  and  I  will  run  to  the  post  with  it." 

Sybil  had  not  failed  to  note  that  manifestly  uncon- 
scious use  of  the  "  we."  Her  mind  was  in  a  ferment, 
and  she  was  glad  that  the  news  was  of  so  surprising  a 
nature  as  to  make  her  emotion  seem  quite  natural. 

"  The  boy  is  just  going  with  the  letters,  in  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,"  she  said.  "  He  can  take  it.  I  will  ad- 
dress it  for  you.  But  I  can  hardly  think  coherently,  I 
am  so  surprised.  What  astonishing  luck!  Or  rather, 
what  astonishing  good  sense  on  your  part !  Child,  you 
are  constantly  surprising  me,  but  you  have  never  done 
it  so  effectually  as  now !  What  will  Oliver  say  ?  " 

"  He  will  say  yes,  of  course !  Mr.  Wolfe  is  very 
wealthy,  and  a  bachelor.  He  is  the  best  backer  any  one 
could  possibly  have." 

"  I  wonder  what  he  will  think ! "  sighed  Sybil. 
"  Poor  fellow,  his  pleasure  will  be  a  good  deal  clouded, 
I  fear,  by  the  fact  that  he  cannot  share  it  with  you." 

Astrid's  eyes  fell,  and  her  mouth  grew  hard.  "  I 
think  you  are  mistaken,"  she  replied  coldly. 

"Well,"  said  Sybil,  with  a  rainy  smile,  "we  will 
put  off  further  discussion  until  we  have  had  tea.  Come 
upstairs,  I  have  put  you  into  the  room  next  mine,  I 
thought  you  might  like  a  different  one.  You  shall  un- 
pack and  I  will  send  off  this  letter.  We  will  wait  tea 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  for  Colonel  Waring." 

They  went  upstairs  together,  parting  at  the  door  of 
Astrid's  room.  Hardly  was  she  shut  in,  when  Sybil 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

fled,  her  knees  positively  shaking  under  her,  the  letter 
in  her  hand,  along  the  passage  to  Oliver's  room.  He 
was  sitting  up  to-day,  for  the  first  time,  and  also  shaved 
for  the  first  time  since  his  accident.  He  was  weak  and 
depressed.  The  depression  seemed  to  increase  with  his 
convalescence.  The  future  looked  dreary  enough. 

His  mother  received  rather  grumpy  replies  to  her 
inquiries.  He  felt  injured,  because  she  had  been  called 
from  the  room  by  a  maid,  and  had  left  him  to  his  soli- 
tary reflections. 

"  Oliver,"  she  said,  "  I  have  a  letter  for  you.  It  was 
sent  to  me,  to  be  forwarded  to  you,  abroad.  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  a  Mr.  Wolfe  ?  " 

His  face  darkened.  "You  mean  the  man  whose 
motor  knocked  down  Astrid  ?  " 

"  Yes.     The  letter  is  from  him,  I  am  told." 

"What  on  earth "  said  Oliver  irritably,  as  he 

took  and  opened  the  envelope.  Evidently  his  eyes 
were  held  by  the  first  few  lines.  He  read  on,  with  an 
expression  of  mingled  incredulity  and  excitement.  It 
was  a  long  letter.  When  it  was  done,  he  rested  his 
arm  on  his  knee  and  leaned  forward,  staring  into  the 
fire.  "  Well !  "  he  said,  in  tones  of  stupefaction. 

"  Is  the  news  momentous  ?  "  asked  Sybil. 

"  Read  it,"  he  bade  her :  and  his  voice  trembled  with 
excitement.  "  Read  it !  Why,  I  can't  believe  it !  It 
would  alter  everything !  "  .  .  .  Then  his  head  dropped 
into  his  hands,  and  he  concluded  dreamily.  "  What 
does  it  matter  after  all  ?  She  doesn't  care !  " 

His  mother  spoke  clearly.  "  To  whom  do  you  re- 
fer ?  Who  does  not  care  ?  " 

"  Astrid,  of  course." 

"  I  did  not  know  there  was  any  t  of  course.'  I 
thought  it  might  be  Mrs.  Railton  of  whom  you  spoke." 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      283 

"  I  have  had  enough  of  the  Railtons,  thank  you." 

"  Why  should  you  conclude  that  Astrid  doesn't 
care  ? " 

"  I  have  told  you  already,  she  has  given  me  the 
chuck." 

"  Did  she  do  that  for  her  own  sake,  or  for  yours  ? 
Are  you  sure  she  wished  it,  or  only  thought  that  you 
did?" 

He  turned  towards  his  mother,  examining  her  face 
closely.  It  showed  signs  of  perturbation.  "  What  do 
you  know  about  it  ?  "  he  asked  slowly. 

"  Not  much.  If  I  knew,  I  should  not  ask  to  be  in- 
formed. What  I  really  wish  to  be  told  is  the  state  of 
your  mind,  if  you  know  it,  which  I  doubt.  Suppose 
that  it  depended  merely  upon  your  own  wish,  would 
you  want  to  have  Astrid  with  you  always?  In  plain 
words,  do  you  love  her,  Oliver?  If  you  don't,  she  is 
entirely  in  the  right,  and  it  is  best  for  you  never  to 
see  her  again." 

There  was  a  pause.  "  I  see  what  you  mean,"  said 
Oliver  slowly. 

"  And  you  have  no  answer  ready  ?  " 

He  still  stared  into  the  fire.  "  Have  I  ?  I  am  not 
quite  sure." 

"  Exactly.  But  it  is  your  place  to  be  sure.  Until 
you  are,  please  don't  be  putting  the  blame  of  your  sep- 
aration upon  your  wife.  Now  let  me  see  this  letter 
which  is  exciting  you  so  greatly." 

He  handed  it  to  her  absent-mindedly,  without  speak- 
ing. 

She  read  it  and  could  not  resist  a  little  cry  of  tri- 
umph. "  Oh,  Oliver,  this  will  take  the  wind  out  of 
Railton's  sails!" 

His  eyes  kindled.     "  It  will  that.     I  should  like  to 


284      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

write  to  all  the  boys  to-night  —  all  my  old  crowd,  and 
tell  them  to  be  on  the  jump.  Why,  I  could  start  the 
whole  thing  in  a  week  or  two  —  I  have  got  it  all  in  my 
hands  —  it  only  needs  to  wait  until  we  have  done  some 
flaming  advertising — you  see,  he  leaves  that  entirely  to 
me !  If  only  I  had  her  here !  I  say,  wouldn't  she  be 
keen!" 

"  I  think  she  would." 

"  You  have  always  appreciated  her,  mother." 

"  I  have  always  thought  her  much  too  good  for  you." 

"  And  I  looked  upon  her  as  a  negligible  quantity,"  he 
replied  dreamily.  The  enthusiasm  of  his  new  idea 
faded,  and  his  weakness  reasserted  itself.  "  I  don't 
feel  as  if  I  could  touch  this  without  her,"  he  faltered. 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  that  is  only  because  you  are  feeling 
ill.  You  will  be  getting  stronger  every  day,  more  es- 
pecially now  that  you  have  this  to  work  for." 

"  I  wonder  if  I  dm  in  love  with  her,"  he  uttered 
slowly,  as  though  thinking  aloud.  "  She  seems  shut 
up  too  tightly  to  be  loved.  Her  scorn  of  me  hurts.  I 
always  feel  as  if  she  were  thinking,  t  What  a  skunk 
that  man  is,  what  an  unspeakable  brute ! '  But  I  am 
always  wishing  she  were  here,  for  all  that." 

"  It  would  distress  you  to  hear  that  she  was  ill,  or  — 
or  —  for  the  sake  of  argument  —  dead  ? " 

He  sprang  to  his  feet.     "  Mother!  " 

She  was  frightened  at  the  emotion  she  had  provoked. 
"  Sit  down,  Oliver,  sit  down,  you  are  not  strong 
enough " 

"  You  have  had  bad  news !  " 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind !     I  assure  you,  boy " 

1  You  are  trying  to  prepare  me  for  something ! 
Something  serious !  She  is  in  danger,  or  —  or  lost  to 
me,  somehow ! " 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      285 

"  Indeed,  indeed,  no.  I  am  sorry  I  made  such  a 
stupid  remark.  I  only  wanted  to  try  and  find  out 
what  you  really  thought.  You  do  not  like  to  think  that 
she  is  completely  lost  to  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  torment  me,"  he  said  brokenly.  "  You 
can  see  how  I  feel." 

"  Yes,"  she  said  thoughtfully,  "  I  do  see  how  you 
feel." 

"  But  there  is  something  —  something  you  are  keep- 
ing from  me !  I  know  there  is !  Mother,  I  demand  to 
hear  it !  You  are  trying  to  prepare  my  mind  to  hear 
something  I  shan't  like,  but  it  is  far  worse  to  keep  me 
on  tenter-hooks  like  this.  Tell  me  the  worst !  Does  she 
want  to  be  legally  free  ? " 

He  was  working  himself  into  a  state  of  excitement 
which  she  felt  was  dangerous.  "  Oliver,  be  quiet,  at 
once.  I  give  you  my  word  —  my  oath,  if  you  will  — 
that  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  and  belief,  Astrid  is 
well  and  safe,  and  there  is  no  fresh  news  about  her." 

She  succeeded,  at  last,  in  calming  him.  The  en- 
trance of  the  nurse,  with  his  tea  upon  a  tray,  made  a 
break,  and  she  succeeded  in  escaping,  telling  him  that 
she  had  a  visitor  to  tea  downstairs,  so  could  not  stay  to 
take  her  own  with  him. 

She  left  him  to  digest  the  surprising  news. 

Her  heart  beat  fast  as  she  hurried  downstairs.  She 
knew  not  how  to  deal  with  the  situation.  It  behoved 
her  to  walk  warily.  She  could  not  help  fearing  that, 
were  Astrid  to  become  aware  of  Oliver's  presence,  she 
would  flee  from  him. 

The  Colonel  was  in  the  drawing-room,  standing  on 
the  hearth-rug,  with  his  back  to  the  flowering  begonias, 
as  though  a  fire  burned  there.  Astrid  had  not  yet  come 
down.  Sybil  ran  to  Walter  as  to  a  refuge. 


286      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"  Oh,  dear  man,"  she  said,  "  what  am  I  to  do  ? 
Counsel  me !  "  Dropping  her  voice,  "  They  are  both 
in  the  house  and  neither  knows  of  the  other's  presence." 

"  Well,  well,  dear  me !  That  sounds  difficult.  What 
is  the  exact  state  of  things  between  them  ?  " 

"  Briefly,  that  each  is  longing  for  the  other,  and 
each  is  persuaded  of  the  indifference  of  the  other.  I 
don't  know  what  to  do.  Shall  I  tell  him  she  is  here? 
Shall  I  tell  her  he  is  here?  Shall  I  tell  both  —  or  — 
and  here  is  the  fourth  and  last  possible  course,  the  one 
I  prefer  —  shall  I  tell  neither,  and  send  her  into  the 
room  to  fetch  something  ?  " 

He  whistled  softly.  "  Oliver  is  pretty  shaky  still, 
isn't  he?" 

"  He  is  weak,  certainly.  But  I  don't  think  it  would 
hurt  him." 

"  She  would  have  to  know  about  this  —  this  curious 
affair  of  his  being  in  that  hotel." 

"  Well,  but  as  far  as  we  know,  there  is  a  mystery, 
but  no  disgrace.  I  do  not  believe  he  had  been  drink- 
ing. He  told  the  exact  truth  about  it  all " 

She  paused,  because  the  Colonel  was  looking  con- 
scious and  worried. 

"  It's  a  very  queer  story,"  he  muttered  obstinately. 
She  regarded  him  uneasily,  for  the  thorn  that  pricked 
him  was  hidden  from  her.  She  had  just  now  nobody 
of  whom  to  be  jealous.  Walter  loved  her,  Oliver  had 
come  back  to  her.  The  Colonel,  however,  was  tor- 
mented every  day  by  the  green-eyed  monster.  To  have 
Oliver  in  the  house  —  ill  —  exacting  a  great  deal  of  his 
mother's  attention,  had  been  a  final  trial  of  the  patience 
of  this  most  patient  suitor.  That  small,  unworthy 
jealousy  coloured  his  thoughts  of  Oliver.  He  knew  it ; 
his  nature  was  thoroughly  sweet ;  and  when  he  saw  her 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      287 

look  distressed  he  was  ashamed  and  wondered  at  him- 
self. "  He  might  be  more  likely  to  tell  the  whole  thing 
to  her  than  to  anybody  else  —  eh  ? "  he  said  encourag- 
ingly. 

"  You  think  so  ?  I  half  believe  that  you  are  right." 
To  his  remorse  she  seemed  to  be  choking  back  tears. 
"  He  was  the  victim  of  some  kind  of  trick,"  she  said, 
achieving  composure  with  an  effort.  "  I  don't  believe 
he  understands  it  himself.  But  of  one  thing  I  am  sure, 
since  —  since  the  last  half -hour.  He  —  he  does  love 
Astrid!" 

The  tears  came. 

"  Well,"  expostulated  he  helplessly,  "  but  that's  what 
you  wish,  isn't  it  ?  " 

She  nodded  mutely. 

"  If  she  is  —  er  —  getting  to  care  for  him,  would  it 
put  her  off,  do  you  think  ? "  he  inquired  awkwardly. 
"  I  mean,  would  she  think  the  worse  of  him  if  she  hears 
of  this  escapade  ?  " 

"  She  will  have  to  know,  Walter,  that  he  did  not  go 
to  Tripoli." 

"  That's  true.  Well,  do  as  you  think  right.  How 
can  I  advise  ?  A  woman's  instinct  in  these  matters  is 
surer  than  a  man's." 

She  wiped  her  eyes,  and  sat  down  to  her  tea-table 
with  a  smile,  summoned  on  his  account. 

"  I  always  thought  my  daughter-in-law  wonderful," 
said  she,  "  and  to-day  I  find  she  is  more  —  almost 
miraculous.  She  has  done  a  thing  that  nobody  else  in 
the  world  could  have  done ;  and  done  it  so  that  he  will 
never  feel  an  undue  sense  of  obligation." 

"  What  has  she  done  ?  " 

"  Mended  his  fallen  fortunes.  Oliver  is  an  editor 
once  more  —  with  capital  to  back  him,  a  free  hand,  and 


288     A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

all  he  could  have  dreamed  of  in  his  rosiest  moments !  I 
must  tell  you  about  it,  though  very  sketchily,  for  she 
will  be  downstairs  in  a  few  minutes." 

She  told  him  of  the  use  Astrid  had  made  of  her  ac- 
quaintance with  Mr.  Wolfe.  There  was  the  offer,  in 
black  and  white.  She  herself  had  seen  it.  "  It  has  put 
new  heart  into  him  already,"  she  exulted ;  "  and  her  one 
desire  is  that  he  should  not  know  he  has  her  to  thank  for 
it.  She  is  great  —  don't  you  think  so,  Walter  ?  That 
word  seems  to  describe  her." 

"  She's  a  vast  improvement  upon  poor  little  Mrs. 
Railton,"  replied  the  Colonel  somewhat  obtusely.  "  By 
the  way,  I  met  Sir  Charles  this  morning.  He  tells  me 
the  young  folks  have  not  yet  sailed.  Railton  is  kept  in 
London,  I  suppose,  by  this  Permian  business,  which  I 
gather  the  baronet  knows  nothing  of.  He  said  some 
financial  business,  and  he  was  evidently  annoyed  at  his 
son-in-law's  plunging  into  that  kind  of  thing  on  his 
honeymoon.  Vivien  is  in  London.  I  thought  he 
sounded  a  bit  querulous,  as  though  he  had  a  suspicion  of 
her  not  being  very  happy,  though  naturally  he  said 
nothing  of  the  kind.  I  kept  my  tongue  between  my 
teeth,  of  course.  Poor  little  Viv  has  been  sacrificed  to 
her  ladyship's  ambitions.  It  is  a  pity." 

"  Not  for  Oliver,"  said  Sybil  firmly. 

"Well,  I  agree  with  you.  She  would  not  have 
suited  him." 

"He  would  have  begun  at  the  top,"  returned  Sybil 
dreamily.  "  His  wedding  day  would  have  been  ecstasy, 
his  honeymoon  delirium,  with  perhaps  one  or  two 
glimpses  of  consciousness.  The  first  twelve  months  dis- 
illusion, and  the  rest  of  life  regret !  Now,  with  Astrid 
he  may  go  on  all  his  life,  discovering  new  points  in  her 
which  he  had  not  suspected.  ...  Oh !  Don't  you  feel 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      289 

that  about  her  yourself  ?  You  see  her  only  as  the  young 
business  woman,  the  typical  secretary;  or  as  the  rigidly 
controlled,  neglected  wife.  I  see  her,  in  a  vision,  wear- 
ing the  crown  of  love  and  joy  and  motherhood.  I  see 
her  fine  nature  in  flower,  and  her  deep  heart  responding 
nobly  to  each  fresh  call  upon  it.  In  most  girls  the  heart 
develops  before  the  brain.  With  her  it  has  been  the 
other  way  —  only  think  how  interesting !  "  .  .  . 

Her  reverie  was  broken  off  as  the  subject  of  these 
meditations  slipped  into  the  room. 

Colonel  Waring  stood  up  and  found  himself  looking 
at  Oliver's  wife  with  new  eyes.  Astrid's  colour  rose  at 
sight  of  him,  and  colour  was  extremely  becoming  to  her. 
She  did  not  look  happy,  but  her  face  seemed  full  of  un- 
uttered  possibilities.  Perhaps  the  glamour  of  Sybil's 
prophecy  hung  about  her.  Certainly  he  found  himself 
impressed. 

She  carried  a  pile  of  knitted  socks  in  her  hands,  and 
was  obliged  to  put  these  down  in  order  to  give  him  greet- 
ing. She  was  evidently  embarrassed  by  the  necessity  of 
offering  him  her  congratulations,  but  she  did  it  prettily, 
encouraged  by  his  evident  complacency. 

"  I  forgot  you  would  be  here,"  she  said,  with  smiling 
apology,  "  or  I  would  not  have  brought  this  hosiery  into 
the  drawing-room.  It  is  just  vainglory  on  my  part.  I 
wanted  Mrs.  Brendon  to  see  what  I  have  accomplished ! 
See" — turning  to  Sybil — "I  have  succeeded  in  copy- 
ing your  pattern,  and  I  made  Oliver  four  pairs  of  socks, 
sitting  on  the  step  of  the  caravan,  knitting  like  a  true 

gipsy-" 

"  The  nomad  life  is  a  very  becoming  one,"  said  the 
Colonel.  "  I  should  hardly  have  known  the  white-faced 
young  London  lady." 

He  was  repaid  by  a  vivid  blush.     The  girl  sat  down 


290      A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

close  to  her  mother-in-law,  and  took  up  her  cup.  She 
wore  the  simplest  of  summer  frocks,  but  it  was  fresh, 
and  nicely  put  on.  He  watched  her,  and  encouraged  her 
to  talk,  asking  for  details  of  their  tour  and  of  the  acci- 
dent with  the  combative  dogs.  Sybil,  as  she  listened  to 
her,  thought  that  she  never  said  a  word  too  much. 

When  the  tea-drinking  was  over  she  rose,  with  the 
instinctive  feeling  that  the  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Brendon 
were  better  company  for  each  other  without  a  third. 

"  I  will  go  upstairs  and  finish  unpacking,"  she  ob- 
served, with  a  demure  smile,  "  and  take  my  knitting  with 
me.  I  had  to  bring  it  in  and  boast,  because  I  took  up 
the  art  late  in  life,  and  Mrs.  Brendon  said  I  should 
never  do  it  properly." 

"  Child,  I  am  beginning  to  think  you  could  do  any- 
thing you  try  to  do !  "  cried  Sybil.  "  Oliver,  in  his  re- 
duced circumstances,  may  be  thankful  to  have  a  wife 
who  can  knit  such  socks  as  these !  " 

"  I  wish,"  said  Astrid,  with  added  colour,  "  that 
they  had  been  done  in  time  for  him  to  take  abroad.  I 
might  have  given  Jbim  two  pairs,  if  I  had  thought  of  it, 
that  night  he  came  down  to  say  good-bye ;  but  I  was  so 
surprised  at  his  news,  and  he  stayed  such  a  little  while, 
there  was  no  time  to  think.  Well,  I  will  take  these  and 
put  them  away  in  his  drawer  upstairs." 

Sybil,  with  a  smothered  exclamation,  half  rose  from 
her  seat. 

Astrid,  carefully  refolding  her  work,  saw  nothing, 
and  her  mother-in-law  sent  a  wireless  telegram  over  her 
head  to  the  Colonel. 

"Shall  I  let  her  go?" 

He  turned  and  regarded  Astrid,  hesitating,  anxious, 
doubtful.  Both  held  their  breath. 

The  girl's  almost  unduly  slender  figure  was  outlined, 


A   MAKE-SHI  FT   MARRIAGE      291 

in  its  white  gown,  against  the  dark  gloss  of  the  mahogany 
secretaire.  Turning,  she  looked  up  with  a  smile,  put- 
ting back  a  strand  of  hair  with  one  hand.  For  the  first 
time  the  Colonel  saw  her  attractiveness,  and  saw  it  in  a 
flash.  He  bent  over  the  traj,  as  though  seeking  a  lump 
of  sugar  for  his  tea,  and  muttered  to  Sybil : 

"  Let  her  go !     Say  nothing !  " 

In  a  helpless  silence,  hardly  knowing  what  the  result 
would  be,  they  watched  her  walk  silently  across  the  car- 
pet, open  the  door  and  disappear,  while  the  latch  fell  to 
softly  behind  her. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

"  And  what  you  leave,"  said  Nell,  "  I'll  take! 
And  what  you  spurn,  I'll  wear. 
For  he's  my  lord,  for  better  or  worse, 
And  him  I  love,  Maud  Clare! 

"  Yes,  though  you're  taller  by  the  head, 
More  wise  and  much  more  fair, — 
I'll  love  him  till  he  loves  me  best, 
Me  best  of  all,  Maud  Clare !  " 

CHBISTINA  ROSSETTI. 

WHEN  Oliver  had  finished  his  tea  —  his  appetite  was 
wretched  —  he  somewhat  peevishly  dismissed  his  nurse 
and  began  to  pace  up  and  down  his  room,  with  a  mind 
fired  with  ambition,  but  a  heart  as  heavy  as  lead. 

He  was  like  a  man  suddenly  awakened.  The  offer 
from  Mr.  Wolfe  had  supplied  the  whip  to  his  dormant 
energy.  The  words  his  mother  had  spoken  about  Astrid 
had  aroused  his  conscience. 

The  days  which  had  elapsed  since  his  accident  had 
been  as  it  were  blurred.  Thinking  was  a  trouble,  so 
he  had  not  urged  his  mind  to  thought.  The  main  facts 
pf  existence,  as  they  presented  themselves  to  him,  were 
intensely  disagreeable.  He  had  wrecked  his  own  private 
life,  and  Eailton's  malice  had  wrecked  him  profession- 
ally. He  had  made  a  genuine  effort  to  win  free  of  his 
financial  misfortune,  and  fate  had  let  fall  upon  him  a 
wanton  blow  —  a  mysterious  accident  for  which  he  was 
wholly  at  a  loss  to  account. 

292 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      293 

Somebody  had  hoaxed  him,  it  seemed ;  who  had  done 
it,  or  for  what  reason,  he  could  not  guess. 

Thus  he  had  winced  away  from  any  consideration  of 
realities.  He  was  ill,  he  was  also  out  of  work ;  but  his 
mother  was  there.  He  was  for  the  present  safe  and  un- 
troubled. 

To-day  the  coming  of  the  letter  was  like  a  trumpet 
call.  This  state  of  things  must  not  continue.  He 
would  be  well  soon,  and  it  behoved  him  to  see  about  va- 
cating his  mother's  house  and  going  elsewhere. 

Dimly,  all  through  his  illness,  he  had  known  that  he 
wanted  Astrid.  Now  that  this  new  chance  had  come  to 
him  he  was  sure  of  it.  His  fancy,  now  wholly  disen- 
gaged from  Railton's  wife,  lit  up  a  picture  of  a  future 
which  his  own  wife  might  share.  The  justice  of  his 
mother's  reproof  was  so  obvious  that  he  was  humiliated 
to  think  it  had  not  struck  him.  After  the  way  he  had 
treated  Astrid  he  had  no  right  to  put  upon  her  the  onus 
of  decision  until  he  had  done  penance,  until  he  had 
shown  her  explicitly  that  his  one  great  desire  was  to  be 
forgiven. 

His  pride  and  temper  had  sent  him  flying  from  her 
in  a  precipitate  rage  that  night  when  they  had  sat  to- 
gether upon  the  moor.  His  silly  bravado  had  led  him 
to  insist  upon  catching  the  last  train,  when  who  knew  ? 
Had  he  stayed,  had  he  made  confession  to  her  of  what 
he  felt,  she  might  have  pitied  him.  As  in  all  his  deal- 
ings with  her,  so  in  those  last  moments,  he  had  showed 
at  his  worst. 

The  memory  of  the  feeling  which  had  then  shaken 
him  made  his  cheeks  hot  even  now.  He  had  known, 
moreover,  that  some  strong  emotion  had  been  at  work 
also  in  her.  If  he  could  have  laid  down  his  pride, 
maybe  it  was  his  chance,  his  moment,  lost  now ! 


294      A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

To  the  best  of  his  knowledge  Astrid  must  be  in  Dub- 
lin, for  the  caravanning  expedition  came  to  an  end  last 
week. 

What  would  she  have  said  had  she  known  of  his  ac- 
cident? Would  she  have  been  sorry  for  him?  He 
almost  hated  her  for  her  strength,  and  yet  he 
loved  her  too.  She  was  inexorable;  and  a  strong, 
almost  violent  desire  was  growing  in  him  to  shake  her 
resolution. 

If  he  could  succeed  in  effacing  from  her  memory 
those  awful  hours  in  the  Brighton  hotel  he  would  have 
made  a  conquest  indeed.  As  he  recalled  his  behaviour 
then  it  seemed  what  no  woman  could  pardon.  Yet, 
perversely,  the  worse  it  looked,  the  stronger  his  desire  to 
show  her  how  different  he  really  was  from  what  he  had 
then  appeared. 

Possessed  with  the  new  energy  inspired  by  Mr. 
Wolfe's  letter,  he  found  writing  materials  and  began  a 
letter  to  her.  He  wrote  hurriedly,  blindly  —  only  thus 
could  he  venture.  If  he  reflected,  failure  was  inevit- 
able. He  must  storm  the  fortress,  and  he  set  down  a 
few  lame  yet  desperate  sentences,  which  seemed  like 
drops  boiling  over  from  the  turmoil  of  his  heart. 

Then,  suddenly,  the  afflatus  left  him.  What  were 
words  ?  How  could  he  tell  her,  on  paper,  the  vehemence 
with  which  he  desired  her  presence?  .  .  .  How  could 
one  write  fluently  with  one's  left  hand  ? 

Flinging  down  his  pen,  he  strode  petulantly  to  the 
window,  and  stood  staring  forth  vacantly,  with  a  mist 
before  his  eyes. 

He  saw  his  mother  and  the  Colonel  come  out  from 
the  drawing-room  window  just  below  his  own  and  stroll 
away  across  the  lawn,  arm  in  arm. 

The  sight  was  to  him  still  new  and  still  unpleasant. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      295 

It  intensified  his  loneliness.  Wandering  back  to  the 
table,  he  sat  down  and  rested  his  aching  head  upon  his 
arms. 

The  handle  of  his  door  turned  softly,  and  someone 
came  in  without  knocking,  walked  a  few  steps  forward, 
stopped,  and  cried : 

"Oh!     I  beg  pardon!" 

He  raised  his  face,  and  confronted  his  wife. 

Evidently  she  had  had  no  idea  of  finding  the  room  oc- 
cupied ;  quite  as  evidently  she  did  not  know  upon  what 
young  man  she  had  intruded  until  he  looked  up ;  for  she 
paused  in  the  act  of  flight. 

For  a  long  moment  each  stared  into  the  other's  eyes ; 
then  Oliver  pushed  back  his  chair  and  rose,  thereby 
displaying  the  sling  and  bandages  which  held  his  right 
arm. 

She  started,  checked  the  movement  she  had  made  to 
depart,  and  flashed  a  glance  round  at  the  various  ac- 
cessories which  showed  that  this  was  a  sick-room. 

"  Oliver,  you  are  ill !  You  are  hurt !  You  were  not 
able  to  go  abroad !  Why  —  oh,  why  have  they  not  told 
me?" 

As  she  spoke  she  came  a  few  steps  nearer,  and,  be- 
ing satisfied  that  she  did  not  mean  to  run  away,  he 
yielded  to  a  sudden  dizziness  and  sank  into  his  chair 
again. 

"  Why  should  they  —  tell  —  you  ?  "  he  asked,  turn- 
ing so  white  that  she  came  quite  near,  in  deep  anxiety. 
"  What  did  it  matter  to  you  ?  " 

The  moment  he  had  said  it  he  wondered  at  himself. 
The  bitterness  had  escaped,  he  had  not  meant  to  wound ; 
he  had  said,  as  usual,  just  the  thing  he  had  better  not 
have  said.  "  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  that !  "  he  added,  with 
a  rush,  imploringly.  As  he  spoke  he  held  out  his  left 


296      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

hand  to  greet  her,  noting  as  he  did  so  that  she  was  not 
wearing  a  hat,  but  was  evidently  quite  at  home.  "  Why 
did  you  come  ? "  he  demanded  eagerly,  almost  in  a 
whisper. 

She  seemed  not  to  have  seen  the  hand ;  she  was  look- 
ing everywhere  hut  into  his  face.  "  Your  mother 
wanted  me,"  she  stammered.  "  I  came  to  help  her,  and 
you,  as  I  thought,  were  miles  away!  It  is  far  more 
wonderful  that  you  should  be  here  than  I.  Won't  you 
tell  me  how  —  that  —  happened  ?  "  indicating  his  arm. 
"  What  have  you  done  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing  much.  Broke  my  wrist,"  he  an- 
swered, hurrying  over  the  words  as  though  he  had 
something  far  more  vital  to  impart;  but  she  held  him 
to  the  subject. 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?     Was  there  an  accident  ?  " 

His  face  grew  dark  and  troubled.  "I  —  well,  I 
don't  exactly  know,"  he  admitted  uncomfortably. 
"  That  sounds  idiotic,  doesn't  it  ?  But  the  fact  re- 
mains that  I  can't  explain  it  to  my  own  satisfaction.  I 
have  given  up  trying  to  explain  it  to  my  mother,  be- 
cause she  shows  me  openly  that  she  thinks  I  am  romanc- 
ing." 

Astrid's  mind  gave  one  swift  leap  to  a  conclusion. 
"  But  tell  me,"  she  urged,  too  anxious  to  feel  self-con- 
scious. "  I  shall  understand,  I  am  sure  I  shall !  Were 
you  waylaid  and  robbed,  by  any  chance  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  in  evident  surprise.  "  What  makes 
you  suggest  that  ?  No,  not  exactly,  but  pretty  near  it. 
I  was  decoyed  to  a  hotel  and  drugged — — " 

She  exclaimed,  almost  before  the  words  were  out  of 
his  mouth,  "  I  knew  it !  I  felt  sure  of  it !  Oh,  why 
did  I  not  warn  you  ?  " 

This  was  sheer  bewilderment.     "  What  on  earth  do 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      297 

you  mean  ?  "  he  asked  wonderingly.     "  I  was  not  robbed 
of  anything." 

"Not  of  anything?  Oh,  Oliver,  are  you  sure? 
What  had  you  in  your  pockets  ?  Any  —  any  important 
letter,  or  anything  ? " 

"  Important  letter  ?  "  Evidently  this  suggested  noth- 
ing to  him. 

"  It  must  have  been  done  to  get  the  letter,"  she  urged 
timidly,  beginning  to  reflect  that,  having  said  so  much, 
there  were  admissions  which  she  must  make.  "  She 
said  —  Mrs.  Railton  said  —  that  he  would  do  something 
to  get  it  back." 

"  Mrs.  Railton !  "  He  half  rose  from  his  chair,  but 
sank  back  with  a  gasp  of  sheer  surprise.  "  Mrs.  Rail- 
ton  —  a  letter !  Could  it  be  that !  It  sounds  too  pre- 
posterous !  "  He  turned  to  her  urgently.  "  Open  the 
drawer  in  the  dressing-table,  on  the  right!  Is  my 
pocket-book  there  ? " 

Nervousness  was  forgotten.     She  flew  to  find  it. 

"  Open  it,  please.  The  letter  was  there.  It  was  just 
inside,  and  had  the  Dormouth  postmark.  I  know  it 
was  there,  for  I  slipped  it  in  when  I  was  turning  out  the 
safe,  the  very  moment  before  starting  for  that  beastly 
place." 

"  It  is  not  here  now,"  said  Astrid,  pulling  out  the 
contents.  "  Here  are  two  letters  from  —  from  me. 
No  others." 

"Well,  I'm  blest!"  he  remarked  weakly.  "That 
was  what  it  meant,  was  it  ?  Why  couldn't  he  write  and 
ask  me  for  it?  No,  I  see.  That  would  have  been  to 
give  himself  away,  and  offer  me  a  chance  to  score."  A 
moment's  reflection  turned  his  mind  upon  another  point. 
*'  What  do  you  know  about  it  ?  How  came  you  to  sus- 
pect ? "  he  asked  in  wonder. 


298     A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

He  had  seldom  seen  her  awkward  and  embarrassed, 
but  she  was  so  now.  The  colour  rose  in  her  down-bent 
face.  "  I  met  Mrs.  Eailton  one  day,  quite  by  accident. 
She  was  motoring  past  the  camp.  She  wanted  me  to 
give  you  a  message  —  to  ask  you  to  burn  the  letter,  be- 
cause she  said  her  husband  was  determined  to  have  it, 
and  —  and  she  had  not  told  him  the  truth  about  its  con- 
tents." 

Oliver  smiled,  a  little  grimly.  "  Well,  he  knows  the 
contents  now,  and  I  do  not  suppose  they  will  please  him. 
Poor  little  girl !  I  was  a  fool  not  to  burn  it." 

Astrid's  heart  began  to  swell  with  the  miserable  ache 
which  the  thought  of  Vivien  always  caused  her. 

"  So  you  and  she  had  a  talk,"  said  Oliver,  with  an  ill- 
assured  laugh.  "  Why  did  you  not  warn  me  ?  " 

Astrid  thought  he  might  have  guessed  why  she  should 
have  avoided  such  a  subject,  but  she  answered  as  calmly 
as  she  could : 

"  I  didn't  seriously  believe  what  she  said ;  and  —  I 
only  saw  you  for  such  a  short  while  after  that.  Such  a 
short  while,  and  so  much  to  hear  and  to  be  said.  .  .  . 
If  I  had  feared  any  real  danger  for  you,  of  course  I 
would  have  spoken." 

"  Would  you  ?  "  His  voice  dropped,  as  in  sympathy 
with  hers,  and  sounded  low  and  wistful. 

As  for  her,  the  thought  of  her  position,  banished  for  a 
while  in  the  discovery  of  his  injury,  was  now  returning 
to  overwhelm  her. 

"  Your  mother  let  me  come  —  without  telling  me  you 
were  here,"  she  murmured  in  an  explanatory  way. 
"  You  will  understand  I  should  not  have  come  if  I  had 
known " 

"  I  told  her  not  to  tell  you  of  my  accident,"  he  re- 
plied, "  because  I  was  afraid  of  distressing  you,  and  I 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      299 

was  fool  enough  to  think  it  might  distress  you.  But  I 
did  not  suppose  you  would  come  here  at  all,  wherever 
you  might  suppose  me  to.  be.  I  understood  you  to  re- 
fuse all  further  intercourse." 

This  seemed  to  require  a  word  of  defence  from  her. 
"  Your  mother,"  she  said  almost  inaudibly,  "  has  been 
very  good  to  me." 

"  You  came  for  her  sake  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Since  you  are  here,"  he  said  after  a  pause,  "  there 
is  something  I  must  tell  you.  I  —  I  suppose  you  will 
feel  you  cannot  stay,  now  that  you  know  I  am  here. 
But  before  you  go  I  must  show  you " 

"  !N~o !  "  she  replied,  in  a  panic.  "  I  cannot  wait.  I 
had  better  go  at  once " 

He  was  conscious  of  but  one  thing  —  a  fixed  inten- 
tion that  she  should  not  leave  him.  She  was  still  stand- 
ing near  him,  on  his  left  side.  He  put  out  his  hand  and 
grasped  a  fold  of  her  white  gown. 

"  You  are  to  look  at  this  first.     I  insist !  " 

"  What  is  it  ? "  she  stammered  miserably.  It  was 
cruel  to  prolong  her  pain. 

"  It's  the  future,"  he  said,  with  a  glow  of  triumph. 
"  When  you  opened  that  door  and  came  in  I  was  just 
thinking  I  would  give  anything  to  have  you  here,  so  that 
I  might  tell  you  all  about  it.  You  came  like  an  answer 
to  a  call." 

She  stood  where  she  was,  for  the  reason  that  she  felt 
quite  unable  to  resist  the  constraint  of  his  hand ;  but  she 
hated  herself  for  her  weakness.  As  she  leaned  against 
the  table,  her  eyes,  downcast,  fell  upon  a  sheet  of  paper 
with  words  traced  laboriously  upon  it  in  a  large  script, 
very  unlike  Oliver's  cultivated  hand. 


300      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

She  could  not  help  seeing  what  was  written ;  in  fact, 
the  first  word  was  her  own  name. 

.  .  .  Such  words !  All  in  a  moment  the  universe  was 
a  blaze,  the  air  a  whirl  of  flame. 

Those  lines  had  been  penned  before  he  knew  that  she 
was  in  the  house.  They  were  true !  He  meant  them ! 
.  .  .  What  then  ?  .  .  . 

He  was  so  possessed  with  the  idea  of  the  news  he  had 
to  tell  her  that  her  sudden  agitation  and  its  cause  were 
alike  lost  upon  him.  Still  he  held  her  dress,  growing 
bolder  as  she  seemed  to  yield,  till  he  had  drawn  her 
down  in  a  kneeling  position  at  his  side  upon  a  stool 
which  lay  beside  his  chair. 

She  fought  for  composure,  for  something  resembling 
her  usual  manner.  "  What  —  what  is  it  that  you  have 
to  show  me  ?  " 

"  A  letter,"  he  said  eagerly,  removing  his  hand  from 
her  to  thrust  it  into  his  coat  pocket.  "  Jove,  I  shall  be 
glad  to  get  the  use  of  my  other  hand  again !  " 

"  Let  me,"  she  murmured,  leaning  over  him  with  a 
desperate  courage. 

"  Thanks,  yes.  Put  your  hand  in  there.  Is  there  a 
letter?" 

She  drew  out  the  letter  she  herself  had  so  recently 
brought  into  the  house,  and  the  full  extent  of  Sybil's 
treachery  was  apparent.  She  shot  a  glance  at  him,  but 
he  evidently  had  not  as  yet  connected  its  arrival  with 
her  own. 

"  Open  it,  read  it,"  he  told  her  excitedly,  "  and  hold 
it  so  that  I  can  read  at  the  same  time." 

She  could  not  see  what  she  was  doing,  but  she  took  the 
paper  from  the  envelope  with  trembling  fingers  and, 
leaning  nearer,  held  it  before  his  eyes.  As  she  did  so 
his  arm  went  round  her,  and  he  held  her  close. 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     301 

He  was  calling  her  name,  as  lie  had  done  upon  the 
sheet  of  paper  on  the  table.  "Astrid,  Astrid!  If  I 
could  have  these  last  months  over  again !  If  there  was 
a  chance  that  I  could  make  you  fall  in  love  with  me !  " 

"  That  could  never,  never  happen,"  she  sobbed  out, 
making  no  effort  to  free  herself,  letting  her  head  sink 
down  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Never !  "  He  drew  in  his  breath  sharply.  "  Is 
never  the  word  ?  Not  if  I  did  any  penance  you  might 
set  me?" 

"  Never,  never !  "  She  was  actually  in  tears,  and 
was  hiding  her  face  against  him  in  a  rush  of  emotion 
which  disposed  for  the  time  being  of  all  the  claims  of 
pride  and  prudence.  She  felt  just  the  primitive  bliss 
of  finding  herself  in  the  arms  of  the  man  she  loved. 

His  masculine  intelligence  was  puzzled  by  the  con- 
tradiction between  her  words  and  her  actions.  She 
cried  "  Never !  "  and  clung  to  him.  Her  surrender  was 
moving  him  far  more  deeply  than  he  had  foreseen. 
Something  new  awoke  in  him,  something  almost  agonis- 
ingly sweet.  The  cold  girl,  "  who  seemed  too  closely 
shut  up  to  be  loved,"  had  become  weak  and  helpless, 
adorably  in  need  of  him,  a  creature  to  be  sheltered  and 
comforted. 

He  would  not  speak,  fearing  to  put  an  end  to  the  mo- 
ment, which,  for  all  he  knew,  might  be  only  an  access  of 
pity,  the  prelude  to  a  long  farewell.  He  succeeded  in 
slipping  his  right  arm  out  of  its  sling  and  using  that, 
too,  to  enfold  her  more  closely;  and  at  last,  unable  to 
bear  the  uncertainty,  he  bent  his  lips  down  to  the  small 
ear  among  the  tumbled  hair  and  whispered : 

"  Never  ?     Do  you  still  say  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do !  I  must !  A  thing  can't  be  done 
over  again  if  —  if  it  has  been  done  already !  " 


302      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

He  started,  and  cried  out  as  though  the  words  had 
been  a  sword.  "  Oh  no !  Oh  no !  "  he  exclaimed,  as 
if  rejecting  a  dreadful  idea.  "  You  could  not !  You 
could "not !  " 

"Oliver,  look  back!  Think!  Why  else  should  I 
have  married  you  ?  Why  else  should  your  indifference 
have  cut  so  deep  —  so  deep  ?  You  knew,  you  knew !  " 

There  flashed  upon  him  the  words  spoken  by  the 
Dormouth  doctor  —  spoken  and  scorned.  He  an- 
swered like  a  man  horror-struck.  "  I  never  knew,  be- 
cause I  never  thought,  because  I  didn't  care.  Didn't 
care!  .  .  .  My  God!  How  you  must  have  suffered! 
How  I  have  made  you  suffer !  What  can  I  do  ?  Con- 
found it,  I  could  put  a  bullet  through  my  own  fool 
brains !  .  .  .  And  yet  you  are  here  —  here,  against  my 
heart  ?  Oh,  what's  the  use  of  talking,  what  can  I  say  ? 
Do  women  forgive  these  things,  even  these  ?  Ah !  don't 
you  see  —  can't  you  feel  —  that  I  can  never  let  you 
go?" 

"  But,"  she  told  him,  "  I  will  go,  I  must  go,  unless 
you  can  say  just  one  thing !  " 

He  wondered.  "  What  thing  ?  What  is  it  I  am  to 
say?  I  repent?  Well,  I  do  say  it,  I  want  to  say  it 
in  act,  not  word.  Forgive  me !  I  do  say  that  too  — 
say  it  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.  Astrid,  I  have 
been  a  callous  brute.  If  another  man  had  done  what 
I've  done,  I  should  implore  you  to  have  nothing  to  do 
with  him.  I'm  at  your  feet;  I  repent.  Forgive  me! 
Is  that  what  you  want  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  No  ?  What  a  determined  little  word,  though  so 
low  I  can  hardly  hear  it !  What  else,  then,  must  I  say  ? 
What  is  it  you  want  to  hear  ?  Not —  surely  not  that  I 
—  love  you?  " 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     303 

She  showed  him  her  face  then,  quivering  with  a 
beauty,  a  new  life,  that  made  him  feel  as  though  his 
heart  turned  over  in  his  side.  She  let  her  eyes  look 
into  his,  as  if  she  would  show  him  her  very  soul. 

"  Love  you,"  he  faltered  stumblingly,  hardly  able  to 
say  the  words  he  would.  "  Do  you  need  telling  that  ? 
Don't  you  see  that  I  simply  can't  exist  without  you  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

"  Since  God  willed 

That  putting  out  his  hand  to  touch  this  ark 
He  found  a  woman's  hand  there,  he'd  accept 
The  sign  too,  hold  the  tender  fingers  fast, 
And  say,  '  My  fellow-worker,  be  my  wife ! ' ' 

E.  B.  BBOWNING. 

SYBIL  and  the  Colonel  sat  together  under  the  syca- 
more, looking  at  the  roses,  but  they  were  not  enjoying 
the  evening  hour.  He  in  particular  was  bored  and  un- 
happy, and  this  is  hardly  to  be  wondered  at,  since  his 
wedding-day  could  not  be  regarded  as  fixed,  so  long  as 
Oliver  needed  his  mother.  At  this  moment  he  knew  she 
was  not  thinking  of  him.  Her  thoughts  were  in  the 
house,  where  so  much  was  passing,  where,  as  she  hoped 
yet  dreaded,  the  future  of  her  only  son  was  being  de- 
cided. 

An  hour  had  gone  by.  Whatever  might  have  hap- 
pened was  doubtless  over.  When  Astrid  made  the  in- 
nocent suggestion  that  she  should  take  the  socks  upstairs 
and  put  them  away,  it  seemed  to  her  mother-in-law  like 
a  special  leading.  Now  that  she  had  put  all  to  the  test, 
she  told  herself  she  had  been  rash.  Things  go  wrong 
so  easily. 

As  the  slow  moments  dragged  along  her  depression 
grew  more  and  more  marked.  At  last  the  Colonel,  al- 
most impatiently,  advised  that  she  should  go  and  find 
out  what  was  passing. 

"  What  is  the  good  of  your  body  being  here  with  me 

304 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     305 

when  your  whole  mind  and  soul  are  in  Oliver's  room  ?  " 
he  asked  pettishly. 

Sybil  had  not  even  the  grace  to  apologise.  "  I  can't 
help  it,  Walter,"  she  replied  callously.  "  You  ought  to 
be  every  bit  as  anxious  as  I  am.  If  they  have  made  it 
up,  we'll  be  married  next  Wednesday." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  ? " 

"  I  do.     Seriously.     It  is  a  promise." 

"  Well,  then,"  with  sudden  alacrity,  "  er  —  don't  you 
think  you  had  better  go  in  at  once  and  find  out  what 
they  are  up  to  ?  " 

She  laughed  at  him,  but  she  patted  his  hand  affec- 
tionately. "All  right,"  she  said,  "anything  is  better 
than  this  suspense." 

Just  as  she  rose  from  her  seat  she  saw  Drew  coming 
out  of  the  house.  "  If  you  please,  ma'am,"  said  the 
maid  as  she  reached  her  mistress,  "  a  gentleman  has 
called  to  see  you." 

"  A  gentleman !     Who  is  it  ?  " 

"  He  wouldn't  give  his  name,  ma'am,  but  he  said  he 
hoped  you  would  see  him.  I  am  pretty  sure  it  is  the 
American  gentleman  who  married  Miss  Faulkner." 

Sybil's  heart  jumped.  Was  there  some  new  compli- 
cation in  the  situation  ?  She  murmured  a  few  explana- 
tory words  to  the  Colonel,  and  they  went  to  the  draw- 
ing-room together. 

Calvert  Railton  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the 
light  when  they  entered.  Afterwards,  when  he  had 
taken  a  seat,  Sybil  saw  that  he  was  looking  harassed 
and  worn. 

"  I  think  it  kind  of  you  to  see  me,  Mrs.  Brendon," 
he  said  quietly.  "  I  am  here  to  inquire  after  the  health 
of  your  son,  Mr.  Oliver  Brendon." 

Sybil's  mien  was  frigid. 


306     A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

"  My  son  is  confined  to  his  room,"  she  said,  "  as  the 
result  of  an  accident." 

"  I  am  truly  sorry  to  hear  that.  It  was  told  me  by 
a  member  of  his  late  staff,"  said  Mr.  Railton  in  a 
subdued  way.  "  I  trust,  however,  that  he  makes  satis- 
factory progress  towards  recovery  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  yes." 

"  I  don't  wonder,  ma'am,  that  you  should  receive 
me  without  enthusiasm,"  said  the  millionaire,  almost 
humbly,  yet  with  a  dignity  which  Sybil  felt  herself 
constrained  to  admire.  "  I  feel  a  special  regret  that 
Mr.  Brendon  should  be  sick,  because  I  have  a  matter 
on  my  conscience  in  which  he  is  concerned." 

"You  allude,"  said  Sybil,  after  a  slight  hesitation, 
"to  your  purchase  of  the  paper  of  which  he  was 
editor  ?  " 

"  I  do.  I  bought  that  paper  for  an  unworthy  reason, 
and  I  have  had  the  mortification,  since  I  acquired  it, 
of  finding  that  I  was  under  a  complete  misapprehension, 
and  that  Mr.  Brendon  had  not  been  guilty  of  the  con- 
duct of  which  I  suspected  him  at  the  time." 

"Indeed!" 

"  That  is  so.  I  have  behaved  in  a  way  of  which  I 
feel  ashamed,  and  I  saw  no  way  out  of  that  but  to  come 
and  say  so,  and  ask  you  to  convey  to  Mr.  Brendon  my 
apologies  and  regrets." 

"  That  is  good  of  you,"  said  Sybil  gently,  but  still 
coldly.  "  I  can,  I  hope,  set  your  mind  in  part  at  rest. 
My  son  is  starting  a  paper  almost  at  once  —  a  new 
paper,  to  be  financed  by  a  very  wealthy  man  who  has 
long  admired  my  son's  work,  and  now  comes  forward  to 
back  him." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  slowly  said  Mr.  Eailton.     He  stared 


A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE     307 

upon  the  carpet  like  one  too  much  surprised  to  rally  at 
once.  "  Is  that  so  ? "  he  repeated  mechanically. 

"  For  that  reason  I  do  not  think  you  need  feel  that 
you  have  done  him  any  lasting  injury,"  went  on  Mrs. 
Brendon.  "  In  fact,  I  fear  it  may  be  the  other  way. 
It  is  likely  that  his  new  paper  may  injure  the  Penman 
severely,  if  not  mortally." 

"  I  think  that  quite  possible,  ma'am,"  was  the  an- 
swer. "Your  son  has  great  ability."  He  raised  his 
clear,  steady  little  eyes  and  surveyed  Oliver's  mother. 
He  admired  her  immensely,  both  mentally  and  phys- 
ically. As  he  encountered  her  gaze  something  of  com- 
prehension, of  sympathy,  seemed  to  leap  out  and  meet 
him.  He  smiled  the  pleasant  smile  which  showed  his 
,fine  teeth.  "  I  don't  seem  to  have  played  a  very  suc- 
cessful hand,  this  game,"  he  remarked  quaintly. 

She  rewarded  him  with  an  answering  smile. 

"  Since  you  are  so  frank,  Mr.  Railton,  you  encourage 
me  to  be  the  same.  I  deplore  the  step  you  took.  Any 
such  action,  dictated  by  motives  of  revenge,  is  pretty 
certain  to  recoil  upon  the  doer.  Your  cruel  use  of  your 
large  fortune  might  have  spoiled  finally  two  young  lives, 
already  injured  by  your  action  in  Egypt,  in  attracting 
to  yourself  a  young,  easily  influenced  girl  whom  you 
knew  to  be  engaged  to  another  man.  Mercifully,  you 
have  not  done  half  the  harm  that  at  one  time  I  supposed 
you  to  have  done.  I  may  assure  you  that  I  do  not 
bear  you  any  ill-will,  and  I  do  not  think  that  Oliver  will 
in  the  future,  even  if  he  does  so  now." 

"  Well,  if  he  doesn't  now  he  must  be  a  plaster  saint, 
which  I  don't  think  he  is,"  observed  Calvert  ingenu- 
ously, breathing  a  sigh  of  inward  satisfaction  at  the 
thought  that  his  victim's  mother  knew  nothing  about  the 


808     A   MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

theft  of  the  letter.  "  But  you  are  right  about  the  re- 
coil, ma'am.  Eight  every  time.  Money  is  a  tempta- 
tion. Sometimes  I  think  it  is  a  curse.  I  have  been 
paid  for  the  way  I  have  treated  Brendon,  and  I  shan't 
forget  my  lesson.  I  shall  consider  carefully  what  you 
have  told  me,  and  if  you  think  that  your  son  would  give 
me  a  short  interview,  I  might  be  able  to  put  an  offer 
before  him.  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  not  to  handle 
a  British  newspaper,  and  I  might  very  likely  make  an 
arrangement  with  Brendon's  backer  to  buy  back  the 
Penman  at  about  half  what  I  gave  for  it.  I  don't  want 
it,  and  that's  the  truth." 

Sybil  was  too  surprised  to  be  able  to  answer  at  once, 
and  it  was  left  to  the  Colonel  to  say,  heartily  if  tritely, 
that  this  seemed  to  him  an  excellent  idea.  "  If  it  could 
be  carried  through  at  once,"  he  said,  "  the  fact  that 
Brendon  ever  resigned  the  editorship  need  not  become 
known." 

"  Mr.  Railton,"  said  Sybil  when  she  had  collected  her- 
self, "  I  think  you  the  most  wonderful  man  I  ever  met. 
I  had  heard  that  Americans  are  '  like  that/  but  I  don't 
think  I  believed  it.  I  am  a  woman  who  has  lived  such 
a  hole-and-corner  existence  that,  except  for  those  one 
meets  when  travelling,  I  have  never  known  an  Ameri- 
can." 

"  I  would  have  been  extremely  sorry,  Mrs.  Brendon, 
if  I  had  lowered  your  opinion  of  a  great  nation  by 
showing  myself  as  a  bad  specimen,"  replied  he  gravely. 

She  rose  impulsively,  her  hand  outstretched,  and 
they  exchanged  a  cordial  greeting. 

"  Oliver  will  not  be  equal,  I  feel  sure,  to  seeing  you 
this  evening,"  she  said ;  "  but  if  you  can  give  me  a 
time  when  you  could  come  to-morrow  I  would  send  a 
message  up  to  the  Park " 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      309 

"  Many  thanks,  I  am  not  at  the  Park.  My  wife  and 
I  are  in  London,  and  I  will  give  you  my  telephone 
number."  He  took  out  a  little  almanac  from  his 
pocket  and  consulted  it.  "  If  you  think  this  business 
could  be  fixed  up  during  the  next  forty-eight  hours," 
he  said,  "  I  would  wire  for  accommodation  upon  the 
Lusitania.  I  am  anxious  to  be  back  on  the  other  side. 
Will  you  see  if  it  can  be  done,  Mrs.  Brendon  ?  " 

"  I  will  do  anything  that  lies  in  my  power,"  she  told 
him  warmly. 

He  did  not  linger  long.  He  had  the  art  of  coming 
to  say  a  certain  thing,  saying  it,  and  taking  his  leave. 
Even  the  Colonel,  who  had  previously  thought  him  de- 
testable, had  to  admit,  when  he  was  gone,  that  he  was  a 
fine  fellow. 

"  I  ask  you  —  did  I  not  say  I  liked  him  from  the 
first  ? "  cried  Sybil  triumphantly.  "  But  I  am  sorry 
for  him,"  she  added  almost  immediately,  with  the 
thought  of  Vivien  in  her  mind.  Her  voice  was  sym- 
pathetic. She  had  an  idea  that  the  future  might  show 
that  Railton  had  been,  after  all,  the  good  genius  of 
Oliver's  whole  life.  She  sighed  for  the  disappoint- 
ment which  had  traced  new  lines  upon  the  millionaire's 
face  since  his  wedding-day ;  but  she  told  herself  that  a 
man  so  brave  and  so  determined  would  in  the  end  attain 
his  heart's  desire. 

As  soon  as  the  door  closed  upon  him  her  mind  flew 
back  to  the  two  upstairs. 

She  turned  to  Walter  for  a  parting  word  of  encour- 
agement and  stole  away  to  Oliver's  room,  her  heart  beat- 
ing fast  and  her  courage  failing. 

On  the  landing,  at  the  west  window,  the  nurse  was 
seated,  with  her  sewing.  Sybil  approached  her,  on  tip- 
toe. 


310     A   MAKE-SHIFT   MARRIAGE 

"  Is  —  is  Mrs.  Brendon  with  Mr.  Oliver  ?  "  she  asked 
desperately. 

The  nurse  smiled.  "  I  don't  think  I'd  disturb  them, 
ma'am,"  she  said  demurely.  "  I  went  in  softly,  to  give 
him  his  tonic,  and  they  were  both  sitting  in  one  chair. 
They  didn't  see  me  nor  hear  me,  and  I  came  away 
again." 

"  Thank  God !  "  The  tears  came  uncontrollably,  al- 
most blinding  her  as  she  turned  and  fled  downstairs 
again,  and  to  the  shelter  of  Walter. 

•  ••••••• 

"  But  you  must  go  up,"  he  said  later,  "  because  you 
must  tell  Oliver  of  this  suggestion  of  Eailton's  about 
the  Penman,  and  he  must  write  to  Mr.  Wolfe  to-night." 

"  Of  course,  you  are  right,"  said  Sybil  bravely.  "  I 
must  go  in ;  but  I  am  afraid !  A  woman  is  an  odd  crea- 
ture. More  than  anything  else  in  the  world  I  have  de- 
sired the  reconciliation  of  Oliver  and  his  wife ;  and  yet 
I  feel  as  if  I  could  not  bear  the  sight  of  it !  " 

"  I'll  take  you  away  —  you  shall  not  see  it  any 
oftener  than  you  wish,  I  can  promise  you,"  he  assured 
her,  with  remarkable  cheerfulness. 

She  was  smiling,  yet  her  eyes  were  wet  as  she  knocked 
at  the  closed  door.  She  did  not  knock  very  loudly,  and 
her  summons  was  unheard.  Softly  she  opened  the  door 
and  looked  in. 

Astrid,  at  the  table,  was  busy  with  pens  and  paper, 
Oliver,  his  chin  propped  on  his  hand,  was  sitting  very 
close  by,  dictating. 

An  impulse  of  vexation  arose  in  Sybil.  Surely  he 
need  not  be  using  her  as  his  secretary  already !  Could 
he  not  allow  a  decent  interval  to  elapse  ? 

She  heard  Astrid's  voice :  "  If  Prentis  is  already 
out  there  for  the  Sentinel,  he  can  stay  out  there  for  us, 


A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE      811 

and  we  can  keep  his  job  here  for  him  till  he  comes  back. 
I  could  do  it  meanwhile,  couldn't  I  ? " 

"  Of  course  you  could,  if  it  wouldn't  be  too  much 
for  you.  You  are  not  strong  yet,  you  must  remem- 
ber." 

"  What  nonsense !  I  am  as  strong  as  a  lion !  Well, 
who  next  ? " 

"  No  more,"  he  said.  "  You  mustn't  tyrannise  over 
an  invalid :  there  are  other  things  in  the  world  than  the 
paper,  you  know !  My  attention  is  wandering.  I  can't 
keep  it  fixed,  because  my  heart  is  full  of  you.  An  idea 
has  just  rushed  into  my  mind,  and  I  must  tell  you. 
We  should  be  mighty  silly  to  begin  the  publication  of 
a  new  thing  in  the  off  season.  The  first  number  must 
not  come  out  before  October  at  the  earliest.  That  leaves 
us  time  to  take  a  real  holiday  first.  Where  shall  we 
go?" 

His  voice  dropped,  and  his  mother  saw  the  expression 
of  his  eyes,  as  he  leaned  towards  his  wife.  It  was  dusk 
in  the  room,  and  Astrid  had  placed  a  portable  electric 
lamp  on  the  table  for  her  writing.  Its  radiance  made 
their  two  faces  clear  as  in  a  picture. 

"  Oh,  Oliver ! "  said  the  girlish  voice,  which  had 
taken  a  new  note,  and  vibrated  with  an  indescribable 
cadence. 

Sybil  saw  them  lean  closer,  closer,  till  their  lips  met. 

She  slipped  noiselessly  away  and  closed  the  door. 

Always  in  future  she  should  have  that  picture  before 
her.  The  beautiful  purple  dimness  of  June  after-glow 
—  the  window  open  to  the  whisper  of  the  trees.  Within 
the  room  the  circle  of  light,  and  in  its  radiance  just 
two  faces,  leaning  closer. 

She  had  learned  her  lesson.  What  place  soever  the 
mother  may  hold  in  the  heart  of  her  son,  his  progress 


312      A    MAKE-SHIFT    MARRIAGE 

or  his  backsliding,  or  his  success  or  his  failure  must  be 
determined  by  the  woman  he  loves. 

She  could  not  speak  of  it  as  yet,  even  to  the  Colonel, 
who  had  come  quietly  upstairs  and  stood  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, awaiting  a  summons  to  enter. 

"  Is  it  all  right  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  answered,  "  It  is  beautiful.  They  are  quite  ob- 
livious of  everything  but  themselves.  We  must  wait  till 
they  awake  from  their  dream."  As  they  went  down- 
stairs together  she  added,  "  Whatever  Oliver  may  have 
been  doing  at  the  Golden  Ball  Hotel,  it  is  quite  certain 
that  she  has  forgiven  him." 

"  Ah,  well,"  replied  Walter,  in  tones  of  frank  curi- 
osity, "  if  she  knows  what  he  was  after,  I  hope  she 
will  tell  us.  I  confess  that  I  particularly  wish  to  hear." 

Sybil  laughed  delightfully. 

"  Just  like  a  man,"  she  told  him. 


THE    END 


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